


A Ship to Each Their Own

by VoltageStone



Series: To Each Their Own... [2]
Category: Victorious
Genre: F/F, Jori (Victorious), Pirates/Early 1700s AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoltageStone/pseuds/VoltageStone
Summary: This wasn't what Tori Vega thought would be her life. She was just going to be simple and live on a farm. Though, with a sickening turn of events, she's fighting in the most chaotic war that the seas have ever seen with friends by her side. Friends, and a rather authoritative captain who's secrets lead to several dangers and successes.





	1. Prolouge - Trove Isle's Company

**_No One's Perspective_ ** **_-_ **

It rang in her ear, a pleasant shimmer of light blinking in her eyes as the compact gold flicked the sun's rays about. She caught it in a tight grasp, a small smirk forming across her full lips as she felt the small numbers press against her palm. Opening her hand, the girl sent the coin flying once more, catching it successfully a second time. At the fourth catch, the girl set the coin down, glancing out of the open window, her elbows against the frame, pale eyes watching as the waves crashed against the rocky beaches below. The air swam against her skin, beckoning her to stalk towards the rocking boat down below, creaking as the ores hugging it - secured by the hooks - shifted at the floor.

Her attention shifted towards the grounds below, cobblestone paths snaking their way towards the front door, then crafted floorboards to the dining hall; she momentarily seethed at the boisterous laughter reaching up the many steps that had reached her room. If only she could just hurl herself from the window, hit the luscious, emerald grass to tumble down into the waves - guided by the heavens, mind - before safely paddling into the depths of the ocean.

That was ridiculous, however, as she surveyed the sky's greying clouds, claps of thunder reaching her ears. It would be a dreadful night, that was for sure.

"Jade?"

The little girl groaned, brushing away her locks of raven before blinking towards the doorway. The woman hadn't yet reached her room, though with a series of quaint, eloquent strides, she found virescent eyes staring towards her own pale, glaucous ones.

Jade was a lot like her mother in different ways: narrow jawline, light eyes, pastel skin, dark hair and a strong scowl. Though, the girl furrowed her brows, standing straight in her obnoxious, long cyan dress, white gloves reaching her elbows. "Yes?" she asked politely, her stomach churning as her mother's frame slacked against the door, jaw absentmindedly chewing at her inner cheek. "Mother, what is it?"

The woman halted in her unconscious fiddling of her own dress, blinking towards her daughter. "Come with me," she breathed quietly, stepping from the door. Jade followed, leaving the gold coin on the window sill, striding across her room. The woman's hoarse words flowed through her consciousness, sending chills that were unneeded down her spine. The two shifted through the halls, finally entering the mother's chambers at the complete opposite of the ocean-side manor. The door shut close with a quiet click, the woman then trailing towards the bookcase opposite of the entryway.

"What's wrong?"

The mother halted, sighing wearily before twisting around to find Jade's questionable stare - nothing could get past the girl, even Davey Jones himself. The woman only nodded, however, rummaging through the bottom drawers. After a few moments, Jade curiously peeking over her shoulder, the woman abruptly stood, clutching a black, wooden box. She heaved it on her bed with a grunt, sighing deeply once Jade had made it to her side. With a creak, the box opened, presenting several oddities: a jade locket, long, silver scissors, a note with terribly scrawled handwriting and then a long pistol.

"What...what is this?" Jade breathed, her mother seating beside it hesitantly.

Inhaling, she murmured, "Listen child..." Normally, there would've been a venomous snap before a sneer. Though, the girl only kept quiet, watching the woman intently. "I was given this when you were five and it is all yours now - it's _been_ yours. You see," her mother whispered, "I was given this to hand it to you when you were ready, when you were _old_ enough." The woman gave a watery smile, eyes glassy.

"Mother," Jade murmured, undeterred by her gentle grasp on the other's forearm.

"But..." the woman whimpered, dragging herself and her daughter to the ground. At their knees, they held each other close, gazes locked raptly. "But sixteen is far too young," her mother hushed, Jade's brows slanting, "The proper age to wield these items with might and purpose but _far_ too young to know...to go down your path."

"I- I won't disappoint, Mother, I promise," Jade vowed, the woman nodding. "I just...why now?"

She jerked once hot breath washed against her left ear, shaken hands clutching her own. "Listen to me Jade...my beautiful gem...listen," the woman almost wept, "I won't see the sun rise after the clouds clear this night...no. I can't take care of you any longer... There are men, men with a vicious intent that have come here tonight."

"At the gathering?"

" _Yes_ child... One of them holds a crooked smile that flashes a gold tooth with black ink at his shoulder. He's come for me tonight, to have me. But I can't risk him finding you, no. You're far too important," she whispered. Jade, clutching her mother's side, only nodded, eyes burning. She stood once her mother had, hands beginning to shuffle around with the box. The locket dangled in her grasp, green eyes flooding over its carefully crafted features. "Turn around," she ordered weakly, the girl obeying obediently. The cool metal graced her skin, the jade locket resting at the center of her chest. Once her mother was done fastening it, the locket lowered, the chain running down her dress. Jade twisted about, glancing at her mother in puzzlement.

"That's for him to know who you are," was the answer. The long scissors and the pistol were next, the woman breathing softly, "You would know how to." Jade merely bit her tongue, shame dripping over her shoulders as she vividly recalled the several brawls she had with the blasts of a trigger. "And now..." she brought out the page, "This."

She handed the weathered paper to her daughter who examined it carefully, cocking her head to the side. "Why?"

"You were left that island right there...it is has been your own, right from birth."

"Mine...mine to- You can't be serious," Jade scoffed, "I can't _take_ this! I can't have a whole-"

"It's been in your name, Jade," the woman snapped sternly, adding, "This is why you're valuable. You have to lead this island so it won't be purged, do you understand? People would kill, would _devastate_ for this island."

The girl nodded in a rush, holding to the map heedfully. "So, what...what do I do?"

"Go through the back tonight and head to the docks. Don't say a word to anybody until you reach the end of the town, got it?" her mother gripped her shoulders, "Find the ship with the black sails, say your name when you find Erwin."

"Erwin? You said never to speak to him-"

" _Jade_ , you need to now. He's the only one I can trust to not...please, for heavens sake, listen to me." Jade nodded softly, unable to hold back any longer. A lone streak crossed her cheeks, her mother cooing softly. "Jade...I'm sorry," she hummed weakly, bringing her daughter close. Both embraced, clutching one another with only a maternal force, unable to release until the chime of the clock tower buildings away.

**. . .**

Eyes watched the seas intently, watching the waves rock the ship back and forth as it proceeded through its venture. She clutched the side wood, careful to not tip over once another whipped across the hull. The clicking of heels and an irritable voice drew her attention to the side, doe eyes narrowing. "Tori! Tori!"

The young woman rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "What is it _now_ Trina?" she groaned, her sister pursing her lips.

"Well...if you don't want to go down to the dinner then whatever," she replied stiffly.

"What do they have?"

Trina paused for a moment, fiddling with her cream dress' white frilled sleeves, eyes wandering in thought. "Lobster and I think some biscuits," she answered, nodding once she was sure.

"So what we had yesterday? And this morning?" Tori drawled, her sister only shrugging. "God, I hope we can make it through the waters quick enough, the waves look rough tonight," she nodded towards the pale ocean.

"It's the storm, Papa said that there'd be some weather coming... Though only a few more nights, right?"

"Then we have our goats and sheep to look after," Trina chuckled.

"Adventure!" Tori murmured meekly with a sly smile. The two girls began to trek towards the cabins, stomachs grumbling for the consistent meal. Both jerked once a bucket splashed at their feet, Trina squealing while Tori glanced to the side.

A boy their age jogged towards them sheepishly, giving them a small grin. "Sorry 'bout that ladies," he murmured, grabbing the bucket, "I didn't mean for that to happen...the boat's kinda rocking everywhere."

"It's fine Andre," Tori chuckled as her sister gasped for her breath, "I've been noticing that too."

"So are you two going down with your father to eat?" he asked curiously. The two girls nodded, the rather heavyset teen glancing towards the door. "I bumped into the cook earlier today...said that some of the food had to be thrown out because it was spoiled."

Tori swatted her sister lightly as she began to feel her stiffen in annoyance. "Yeah, I heard about that. At least he fed the fish, right?" The trio twisted abruptly about as a man bolted towards the side, hurling what food was left in his stomach.

Grinning coyly, Andre muttered, "He's not the only one." Sighing, he gripped his mop tightly, bidding the two girls a good night. "That is," he humored, "If we don't get thrown off from the waters." The girls rolled their eyes, giving him the same before disappearing behind the captain's door.

"How do you know his name?" Trina turned to her side, Tori scoffing.

"Oh come on, we've been on the same boat for a few months. Are you telling me you don't socialize with the others?" the youngest asked. Trina decided not to answer, instead greeting the few older naval officers at the table.

"Why hello girls," one of them grinned through his thick mustache, "Nice of you to join us."

Trina, seating herself beside the man at the head of the table - their father - she answered, "Tori was looking out at the waters again."

"What else are you supposed to do?"

The whole table gave a chuckle, diving into their meal, absentmindedly swaying with the rocking of the ship. Few chattered with one another, the girls' father turning to Trina, asking about her day. She only shrugged, admitting her desire to finally reach another shore. Tori, meanwhile, set her attention towards the small window opposite of her, the sky darkening to become the night's blanket. Too entranced in her world, she hadn't realized the warmth dripping onto her green dress. "Ah," the commander turned to his side, quickly muttering to the young girl, "Miss Vega, your lobster..."

"Oh!" she blinked, her cheeks warming. "I- Thank you," she sputtered, quickly laying a cloth napkin over her lap. The commander winked humorously, drawing his attention towards the head of the table.

"So, Captain Vega, what are we to do about the lost fleet?" he asked carefully.

Patting his lips with the cloth napkin - Tori shrunk a bit in her seat - he murmured, "I guess just replace them, I suppose. Not much to do, really... Of course, have a memorial for them but I don't know what we could do - can't go back now, can we?"

"I suppose not," the officer nodded, furrowing his brows at the distant yells through the cabin door. "Hey, Shepard, would you go and see what the hell they're going on about?"

"Yes Commander Lukesfold," the ginger-haired man nodded, excusing himself from the table.

Once the door clicked shut, the remaining party of nine dove back in, enjoying the mean before them. "So, Tori," her father turned towards her, opposite of Trina, "What are you going to do when you get back? Going to see that young man again?"

"Daniel?" she furrowed her brows, shaking her head softly. "I don't know... He's probably already forgotten about me."

"Aw," the captain chuckled, "I wouldn't say that now. Stars are very hard to forget." Tori rolled her eyes, biting into her biscuit as Captain Vega chuckled. "Now," he continued, "Why is that-" The whole table jolted as the consumers had, eyes flying towards the door as the side of the ship blasted. "Why the hell-" the captain stood quickly, "Who's firing now?"

"Is there another ship?"

"Why else would we be firing?" came a quick questioning answer. Abandoning the food, all nine left the table, bustling towards the deck. Officer Vega quickly snatched his coat, throwing it over his shoulder.

"What's going on?" he barked, the men already on deck turning towards him. Several gestures and blubbers pointed towards the upcoming shadow, the men scowling indignantly.

"Pirates right yonder sir," one replied, "Damn too close if they'd weren't doin' nothin'." If the upcoming ship with magnificent black sails was close before, the turn of the hull was closer than neighboring. Roars bellowed from the ship, the few on the deck quickly multiplying, shots ringing in the air. "Damned savages," the man spat, turning towards him.

Before the captain could say a word, the ship rocked suddenly, the boars screaming in agony as a dense ball rocketed into the sides. "FIRE YOU IMBOSILES!" he snarled, ordering the crew until they scrambled to the cannons. His eyes bugged at the sight of his daughters scrambling towards the cabins, his boots clacking against the floorboards. "Girls, girls," he wheezed, "Go to the cabins and get anything to defend yourself with, okay? Don't go out and...where's that one boy?" He spun around, attention rapidly shifting as the ship howled, yet another cannon smashing against the side. "Hey!" Andre halted, spinning around before standing straight, eyes not wavering from the captain.

"Yes sir?"

"Protect my two girls, got that? With your _life_ ," Captain Vega ordered.

"Yes sir." The captain raced towards the side, the pirates' ship veering dangerously close towards the side. Tori gasped as its occupants began to hurl themselves on board, successfully planting their feet on the deck.

Bullets rang in her ears, whistling past several others before eventually making their mark.

She winced as bodies - from whatever side - plummeted to the floor, the chaotic yells sloshing through her mind.

Oh how she desperately wanted the storm to have been the only worry.

"Look out Trina!" Andre yelped, the eldest sister jerking towards the side, clutching his arm as a bullet smacked against the small pile of bottles rolling beside her. "Jesus Christ," he swore, serving around the steps leading to the wheel, diving towards a door, "This is why we shouldn't fire at a fucking _pirate_ ship."

"What?" Tori furrowed her brows.

Shaking his head before planting a pistol in her hands, Andre growled, "I swear the damn drunks always have to go and do _something_ whenever a ship passes."

"But the pirates," Trina grimaced as an identical weapon was shoved into her hands, Andre slamming the closet door, "They-"

"Not these ones," he shrugged, adding, "I don't think anyway... But I suppose you never know." He grunted as abruptly slammed into the wall, the girls doing the same, as the ship thrashed against the unmerciful waves. All three screeched once a body slammed against the floor before them, boots following with an unfamiliar figure. She turned around, dark eyes snapping towards the trio. She raised a brow, flicking her long, red strands from her face; Tori hadn't ever seen hair that color before.

Another pirate stomped through, pointing his rifle towards the trio. "No," she barked, glaring to her side, "Don't shoot."

"Why not?" he snapped, "They're against us, aren't they?" The woman chewed at her lip, glancing towards the small huddled group in thought. With a quick swing, her long blade sliced through the upcoming traffic, the commander wheezing before hitting the ground, collapsing on the other body.

"Gary!" Trina yelped, the quick stare of the woman - who really couldn't have been older than her sister - arched a brow.

Dark eyes loomed over towards the firearms in each of their hands before blinking towards the rather eager man at her side. "Do whatever, we just need to get back to Trove, and quickly," she muttered, turning at her heel before bolting towards the mass of grey coats surrounding mismatched clothing. The man smirked, flashing a gold-tooth smile before striding forward.

"Why aren't you beauts?" he grinned, glancing towards Andre, "Even you."

"Thanks," Andre sneered, unamused by the commentary.

"It's too bad...really," the man snickered before a quick couple of blasts and a scuffing of steps. He yelped, ushered back, meeting the pile with red tainting his side. Captain Vega wheezed, glancing over his shoulder. He wavered in his stance, giving a weak smile.

Nodding towards Andre, he murmured, "I see you have a sharp eye." The young man only shrugged, setting down his smoking pistol.

"I tend to," he answered, voice shaken.

"Was that your first?" The teen nodded. "It's alright m'boy, the world's a savage place with savage people. There's no need for them," he muttered bitterly. "Now go on, quickly into my cabin, you'll be safe there." Heeding to his words, Andre lead the two girls down through the doors, reaching the cabin with his attention swiftly going over his shoulder constantly.

Gulping, Trina asked, "Is there anybody there, Andrew?"

"No, and it's Andre," he murmured, adding, "But I guess that's closer than 'Anthony.'" Tori furrowed her brows, mouthing the latter whilst Trina shrugged sheepishly. "I think we should be good," he nodded, finally turning to the room. "Jesus!" he blinked, glancing along the walls, impressed with all of the furniture.

"Have you never been in here before?" Tori asked.

"Nah, I've always kept to the deck and the rooms down below," he muttered. The teen shook his head, gazing towards the side of the room. "Where does that door lead?"

"Down below with the other cannons," the youngest answered, "And I think there's also a makeshift ladder to a boat if we drop one."

"Handy," he mumbled simply, "But come on, we have to get out of sight." The girls nodded, striding towards the door as Andre kept watch from behind. Trina, grasping the handle, yanked at it, swearing heatedly. "What?"

"The thing's jammed," she spat, turning towards her sister after the third attempt, "You try." Tori nodded, gripping the handle and doing the same; there wasn't any movement. Rolling her eyes, she stood back, muttering a caution towards the others. Raising her pistol, she shot at the handle, grinning at the newly formed hole.

"Put something in front of the door; they could've heard," she spoke over her shoulder, Andre quickly jogging towards a desk leaning just an arm's-length from it. "Trina go help," Tori jerked her chin. Turning towards the door, she hurled herself back once it crashed open, barely on its hinges. She gawped at the large crater at the side, quickly glancing down to the watery depths down below. Her eyes shifted towards the cannon rows along the side of the other ship's hull, gasping once a face flickered in the small openings. "Andre! Trina! We can't go there!"

"Why no- _Christ_ ," Andre spat - he was no priest of any kind. The cannon closest to them raised, sizzling eagerly. "Get out of the way!" he yelped, hurtling his body towards the elder sister, successfully knock her down as a heavy ball streamed across the room, striking the opposite side and blowing through the ceiling. Boards collapsed from the top, a gaping hole searing light at the floorboards. "My God...are you girls okay?" he called out, earning two whines in return. Heaving himself to his feet, then helping Trina to her own, Andre muttered, "Well...what now? Can't stay in here if they'll keep firing at us like that."

In a conscious agreement, the three began to shove the desk from the door, promptly opening it with full force. Bolting towards from the cabin, they shuttered as another cannon had sped through, crashing through the large windows at the back. The sisters glanced at one another wearily, following the alert man before them. Quietly, he waved the two girls over, gesturing towards the cannons. "There's a way up, right, so we could hide in some of the cupboards and get out if we need to," he explained.

"Good thinking," Tori murmured, darting past the cannons. None of which were occupied, they hollers and blasts up above ensuring that. Squeezing around an awkward pillar, the trio shifted towards a small closet, shuffling inside. "Does the door lock?"

"Doesn't shut all the way, the damn thing," Andre muttered, seating himself against the corner. "Well, best get comfy, I suppose, unless we need to squeeze through that."

"You wouldn't," Trina observed, glancing at the small window.

"Doesn't matter." The two nodded solemnly, Andre keeping his ear against the wall. After several minutes, he furrowed his brows. "There's not as much commotion," he whispered.

Tilting her head to the side, the eldest sister asked, in a hushed voice, "Are they gone?"

"No..." he drawled slowly, hearing faint, heavy steps trudging about the deck, "But maybe. I don't know, them pirates weren't goin' to steal, they was goin' to fight." Tori felt her throat go dry, a knot clumping at the base of her neck. She swallowed, attempting to keep a small whine down as the ceiling creaked ominously above. All was still for a brief moment, allowing the three to breath quietly.

A heavy bang thudded against the wall a second later, the door whining. "Check every door," came a bark, "Can't have anybody left on this thing."

"Yessum," followed a reply, boots thundering across the room. "You check there and we'll meet in the middle. Can't have no scoundrels running to the boats."

"More like swim," came a hoarse chuckle, the door creeping open to present a tall figure at the doorway, attention still at the other side. Yellow eyes blinked down at the three, his beard stretching with his smile. "Why hullo," he snickered, "Nice meeting you." He studied all of them, watching as their breaths hitched anxiously. "My," he breathed, resting his fist on the hilt of his sword, "You girls wouldn't be the captain's, now would ye'?" Turning to his side, the man roared, "Barnaby! I found 'em, the captain's bitches with some swab."

Hurried steps swiftly clicked towards the closet, a scrawny ginger looking in. "Looks like it," he muttered, "Now come on you scoundrels, best be gettin' up to Burt, ye' hear?" Andre only spat at the tips of his black boots, earning a scornful scowl. "Got some of the devil, eh? Captain Van-Cleef better have your ass first!"

"We ain't havin' them on the damn ship. Can't have 'em goin' through the rations," the bearded man spat. He stared down towards the three, rasping, "Now get up." Andre wriggled in his grasp, snarling obscenities as he was torn away from the girls - his duty. "Get the bitches!" he ordered, the scrawny man nodding. For his weight he held an iron grip on the girls, not allowing either to break free as the scrambled about, wishing they hadn't left their only terms of defense back in the cabin. The small party struggled up the steps, the two men hauling the girls and Andre to the deck.

The trio were flung to all fours, blinking in the darkening grey sky. "Get up!" a snarl bellowed in their ears, three sets of feet planted firmly on the ground quickly. Hands were raised as well once widened eyes trailed along the reddened floorboards, various swords, pistols - even a broken bottle - were pointed towards them.

The bearded man glanced to his side, growling, "Well, shoot them!"

"No," another shook his head, his cap over his right eye, "Can't. Cat's making a deal with the captain."

"What? Why is she-"

"Well," another, more weathered, voice piped up, bringing yellow eyes to him, "She's first mate."

"Not on our ship!" the man retorted.

Shrugging, the first muttered, "But she's the first mate of Dame Hestia." The bearded man grew silent, glaring off towards the distance. He narrowed his gaze at the crouching captain, hair disheveled as two others held his arms tightly. The redheaded woman stood before him, arms folded. The circle stood, waiting around the three who watched carefully, nervous of their fate. After many minutes, the four began to trudge their way towards the circle, breaking the chain to allow the beaten man and two burly others in.

Cat strode at the near center - beside the three - turning towards Captain Vega. Dark eyes lifted towards his daughters, a tight smile forming across his face. "Hello girls," he rasped weakly, blood staining his chin in a thin line.

"Say what you need to," Cat murmured softly, the man nodding wearily.

"I...I'm sorry girls," he bowed his head, "But you'll be fine, don't worry." He smiled towards the two, tears prickling their eyes. "And you," he turned towards Andre, "protect them with your life... I- I'm sorry girls, say hello to Barataria for me, please." He closed his eyes as a metal ring pressed against the side of his head, the captain breathing slowly. "I'm sorry Holly...I'm sorry girls..."

The crack of the bullet echoed as the thump of his lifeless body had.

The sisters whimpered as Andre sighed wearily, not resisting as his arms were pushed down, rope that itched his skin tightly bound round his wrists. Once the girls had their own wrists bound, the trio were led across the deck, gazes unable to glance over their shoulders. As their steps scuffed against the long board leading towards the opposing ship, Trina gave a quick glance, her father's body abandoned in the middle of the deck.

She blinked back the image, knowing her mistake.

Their backs were pressed against the main mast minutes later, the trio circling around it. The rope rubbed menacingly against them, though they hadn't moved. Their eyes were glued to their feet, expressions contorting to a grimace once their was a booming order, the ship moving quickly. Cannons blasted in their skulls, plummeting towards the Bay Mestiza; Tori had recalled thinking the ship's name was rather strange, though she couldn't have clung onto it any further.

Her gaze flowed towards the ball of fire sinking into blue, bodies and pieces of whatever floating above. She whimpered to herself, closing her eyes.

**. . .**

The clicks of authoritative boots followed closely behind the captain's, eyes surveying the slacken prisoners. The first mate, cleared his throat, eyes lingering to his side. A gangly man stood beside him, one blue eye blinking towards the three whilst the other was hidden behind a grey, cloth bandage which wrapped around curled locks reaching only just past his ears. "Captain Van-Cleef?" the shorter asked quietly, "What do you want to do with them?"

"Them pretty girls..." he hummed wistfully, adding, "Almost as pretty as the Dame."

"Save it," the first mate growled, adding, "She'd have our heads if we did anything to prisoners."

Arching a brow, Captain Van-Cleef turned towards his side. "What do you mean? This is my ship; it's part of the Code of Trove."

"Right...but it's also a part of the code to _not_ do anything to the prisoners on the way back to deposit the rations," the first mate, Burt, explained.

Scowling, the captain murmured, "Right, right...I remember." The gangly man turned towards the three, scratching his wispy beard. "Alright," he barked, his unsettling tone bringing chills down the girls spine while Andre narrowed at the shifty gaze. "Now you will be prisoners of battle until we get to Trove Isle. Because you didn't really _do_ anything," he added hesitantly, "You could be free thereafter."

"How nice..." Andre murmured, barely soft enough for the two young men to not hear.

"But, commit any treason while on this ship and then we'll have you...erm...have- What's the word?"

Rolling his eyes, Burt strode forward, barking, "Look, do any shit on here and we'll have your heads. Sit there like a couple of pretty girls and-" he blinked towards Andre "-a loyal mule, and you shall be free to go."

" _Mule_?" Andre exclaimed.

"Save it," the first mate ordered between his teeth, shifting his eyes towards the edge of the deck. "You watch them."

Cat brought her head from her light doze, raising a brow. "What, me?"

"Who's the first mate of this ship?"

"Who's the first mate of the Saint Denys?" Cat countered, immediately silencing Burt. "Get it through your head that I'm a higher rank that all of you," she muttered.

"Says who?"

"Says Captain West!" she cheered, giggling after.

Shaking his head, the captain muttered, "Of course, of course you are." Cat scoffed as the two nulled towards the wheel, meeting with the navigator glancing out towards the open waters. Perking up at the new company, the young woman practically pranced towards the prisoners, smiling lightly at them.

"Hello!" she grinned. The three only remained mute, unsure as of what to say.

Eventually, at the sight of Cat awkwardly waiting for a reply, Tori answered, "Hullo."

Grinning, the redhead sat right before them, or rather right in front of Tori while the other turned their heads to her. "It's a nice night, the stars I mean," she murmured, glancing up towards the twinkling lights. The prisoners nodded slowly, eyes wavering back towards the first mate of another. "Anyway, my name's Cat, and yours are?"

"Andre," he gave in, flashing the fellow teen - as he assumed - a gentle smile; _'might as well,'_ he figured.

"Erm Tori," the youngest nodded, flashing a quick glare to her side. As Trina remained silent, she introduced her sister as well. "So, uh, _Cat_... Is that like the animal?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" the girl scoffed quickly.

"No! No, I love cats, I do... I'm just curious," she saved swiftly.

The young woman smiled, nodding along. "Well, no, my name's not really Cat," she admitted, "It's Ariana. But, well, you see, I was named Cat since... Do you want me to tell you the whole story?"

"Uhm...yeah, sure," Andre nodded, turning towards the sisters. "Right?"

"Yeah," Tori murmured. Trina only hummed.

"Yay!" Cat squealed excitedly, hopping to her feet, "I'll go get Prurple!" The three paused, watching as the first mate eagerly skirted off.

Clearing her throat, Trina murmured, "Did she just say 'Prurple?'" Andre only nodded, blinking as Cat hobbled her way over.

In her arms was a small rag doll, worn over the years. It was an ugly, foul thing, triangular ears folded towards buttoned eyes, a jagged tail hanging just like its long neck. Prurple, as Tori assumed, was the misshapen clash of a cat, alpaca and a whale with splotches. Thumbing over the nose, Cat began her tale. "So," she smiled towards her audience - a rather eccentric situation, "When I was three my mom and dad had me and my brother on a little shop by the docks. I really love ships, yeah, so I would go all around and chase all of the birds! And my brother was crazy...he, uhm, ran away with some stuff and joined a crew. But, anyway, so my parents were getting really sad and had me go and become a swabbie for some ships because they ran out of money.

"And then I was on several ships and I was named Perch, since I had to go in the crow's nest a lot, and then Rammy because I had to open a door with my head- I have a scar at the back of my neck if you want to see! So there was this guy at the door, right," she nodded rapidly, "And he had this huge sword. I was on my knees because I had to crawl, and I head-butted the door and-" she began to giggle "-and then he swiped and I have this scar now! Isn't that neat?

"Anyway, so I was called Perch, and then Rammy before I had to go back to my family and I found that they moved without me! So I couldn't go anywhere but I heard about Captain West, right, and then I went on the Saint Denys- That's Captain West's boat. Anyway," she took a long breath, "So I had to get on the boat because it was the only one on the dock, right? I didn't know who's boat it was but it was _so_ pretty... It's still so pretty! Anyway, so I went on board because the flags were so pretty! And then, uh, then I looked around and I grabbed this cat that leapt off the boat and just got out of the water. I don't know why it was in the water, bit it was...

"But, anyway," she nodded, "I grabbed the cat and then I took it on the boat and snuck on that way! You see, it was really dark outside, because it was nighttime, and nobody saw my face because I had black hair and then the cat was black so I blended right in! And after that, I hid in a barrel with the cat because I heard that they needed to get more rations so they went back into town; I heard a _load_ of cannons and shots that day. But, _anyway_ , I was in the barrel and I was tipped over because they needed the rations. Well, a man - his name's Erwin but everybody calls him 'Sikowitz' because he's kind of psycho."

Licking his chapped lips, Andre murmured, "I bet."

"Right?" Cat widened her eyes, bobbing her head. "But he saw the cat and he was saying 'Kitty-cat! Come out here Kitty-Cat!'" The woman proceeded to make strange, mewing noises with the clicks of her tongue, the sisters glancing towards each other hesitantly. "So like that," she continued, "And the cat didn't come out because it was stuck in my legs like this -" she demonstrated with Prurple, her knees wrapped around the doll "- and so I came out. Sikowitz was really surprised and decided to call me Kitty-Cat; he didn't see the cat because it ran away right when he wasn't looking. I do miss it sometimes..."

The first mate pouted, glancing down at her small, cloth toy. Andre wandered if that was the replacement. "So..." Tori mumbled, seeing as Cat was too mournful to continue, "What then?"

" _Tori_ ," Trina hissed quietly. The youngest only ignored her sister, Cat smiling gently.

"You like my stories? I have a lot to tell, actually," she grinned. "I could tell you how I lost a toe, and then how I got this gold tooth and this silver tooth once I'm done with this story?"

"Stick with this one," "How about you finish this story," and "Which toe?" were all encouraged by Trina, Tori and Andre respectively in unison.

"My left piggy," she answered smoothly. "But, anyway, I'll stick with this one. So, they found me and saw that I was a really good climber because they chased me up the mast. The Trove Isle fleets don't like intruders; it's too risky," she murmured seriously, eyes shifting towards the three. "You'll be fine since you didn't sneak on here, but it's still a risk. Well, so I had the job of looking up on the crow's nest again and I was called 'Kitty-Cat.' Eventually it was too long and they started calling me 'Kitty,' or 'Cat.' But we put it to a vote one day and most people said that I should be called 'Cat,' so that's how I got my name."

Pursing her lips, Tori murmured, "That's actually pretty interesting."

"Yeah," Andre added. Cat grinned toothily at the two, appreciating her entertained audience.

A third, however, wasn't as much. Instead, Trina scoffed, "Like I'd really want to hear about how a damned pirate got her name."

Cat's expression flickered, her smile draining away to reveal the ruthless, cold expression that had been worn on the Bay Mestiza. "We are pirates of a different kind," she rasped.

"Really now?" Trina growled, "Because if I remember correctly, pirates like yourself take over ships, kill papas in front of their daughters and then sink the ships! I swear to God if you go to hell I'll-"

Cat stood abruptly, shifting towards Trina. "Even these wretched pirates are of a different kind," she spat, "I'm not the first mate of this ship as I'm merely boarding until I get back on the Saint Denys. I don't make the rules around here, nor do I wish to follow them but, as a guest, I must live to the code. Now, let me remind you that it wasn't my decision to attack nor was it your decision to shoot at this ship when we have rations on board. So don't you dare tell me otherwise."

"Rations? Really? Is that what you call stealing from other people?" Trina snapped, "I swear you pirates are all the same. Just bloodthirsty devil-spawn."

"Trina!" Tori snapped, Cat's locked gaze not wavering from the eldest sister's stare.

Cat grinned a cruel one, murmuring softly, "I'd listen to your sister there."

"Why?" she continued, "Where's your captain anyways?"

"Off at sea with the rest of the rations, and redcoats," Cat answered, furrowing her brows.

Trina snorted, muttering, "Some captain...doesn't care about anybody else but the stolen loot, right? Bet that's more important than you, filthy pira-" She wheezed as her right eye saw gunpowder, the metal ring of Cat's pistol shaking her limbs. She whimpered softly, Cat bearing her teeth.

Tori watched, noting the both the silver and gold teeth shining in her mouth, straight, red hair falling to her shoulders. "Don't- _ever_ -talk-about-Captain-West-like-that-again," she spat between her teeth, "Does-more-than-you-ever-will-you- _bitch_." Cat strode back, forcing her weapon back in her halter, growling, "You will be locked in a cell when we get to the port and then we shall see what happens when your foul mouth runs." With the few clicks of the heels, a snatching of Prurple, Cat was off, leaving the two temporary prisoners and the one not-so-temporary-prisoner.

Left choking on her sobs, Trina shook her head as Tori cooed softly. The youngest sighed, her heart hammering against her chest. After a while, when the lamps of the ship dimmed, she asked quietly, "Have you heard of any captains?"

"Of pirates?" Andre asked quietly, Trina too in her world - asleep, perhaps - to listen.

"Yeah..."

Inhaling, Andre murmured slowly, "Yeah, a bit. My pa helped track them down before I lived with my grandma... He told me, because I wanted to be a sailor, that I had to be careful and all that. I've heard of William Kid, though he died a little while ago... Uh, Black Beard, Long Ben and Ching Shih. Some more but I can't think of 'em."

"What about Captain West?"

"Yeah, definitely heard of him. He's a right terror along the British Isles. Nobody knows where he lives, or if he even has a place, but he goes everywhere. I mean, _everywhere_. It's hard not to find a pirate with some connections with him. West has this fleet, see, and he doesn't play around with any others either. So most of the pirates around, from what I've heard, steer clear from him. Some even say that he's a witch, has this green mist around him."

"Jesus Christ," Tori breathed.

"I know," Andre nodded, "But a lot of people, not just pirates, say that he's excellent at navigating, always knows where he is."

"What?"

"My guess is astronomer," Andre attempted to shrug, grimacing once his arms rubbed against the splintering wood and rough rope. "Anyway, a lot of the English have had him as a prisoner and every time he manages to escape."

Furrowing her brows, Tori murmured, "So, wait, Captain West is a witch pirate?"

Chuckling, the young man echoed, "Witch pirate... _Jesus_. But my question is who the hell is Dame Hestia?"

"Who?"

"Well, I don't know. Some of them were talking about her on the Bay," he mumbled. Tori only nodded, gravitated by the stars above. "Kinda want to know what they all look like now, you think? Never heard of Hestia before but Captain...never seen a witch before."

"Yeah," Tori drawled, keeping her eyes on the brightest star. She only wished things would get better.

It hadn't looked like it.

**. . .**

Sand slipping between her battered shoes never felt so inviting in her life. Tori breathed in the air slowly, allowing its energy to seep within her. She blinked towards the side, Andre stepping from the dock. He blinked about, whistling at the curved town, layered with intricate streets and beautiful stone buildings. Trees blossomed wherever, somewhat hugging the structures. "It's absolutely gorgeous," he hummed, Tori nodding. "Hey! You lot!" Both turned around, finding Burt and Captain Van-Cleef striding over, leaving the ship to be unloaded with what had seemed to be everything: food, riches, jewels, paintings, statues, common items and cloths. "We ought to get something straight."

Burt nodded, murmuring, "This is Trove Isle," he gestured, "And you are now residents here."

"We are?" Andre arched a brow.

"That, or you will be sent to the cells like her," Burt pointed towards Trina who strode away, rope around her wrist as Cat lead her through the docks. Doe eyes softened as identical ones looked over her shoulder, the eldest shrinking in her posture. "Your choice."

"And if we don't go to the cells, then what do we do?"

Folding his arms, Burt growled, "Go to the town center and get to work. You must do whatever is needed, whenever it is needed, for the town. Work any shops that require you, work the docks if they require extra work unloading, or work for a family. And if you do that, you mustn't wear boots or coats."

Narrowing his eyes, Andre muttered, "No boots are coats? Why the hell-"

"You are still a peasant," Captain Van-Cleef barked, Tori shivering as his predatory eye shifted towards her. "Until you work enough for people to put a vote in the matter, you will not wear boots or coats. That's the end of it, that is Code Trove's law."

"And after?" The two young men turned towards Tori, pursing their lips.

"If you manage to get at least one hundred and seventy-five votes, then you will be free to live your life in the city," Burt shrugged.

"Well...that is if you stay on land," the captain murmured.

The first mate nodded, agreeing, "Yes. If you end up working on one of the ships then you will serve the captain until they are satisfied with your work." The two muttered their understanding, keeping to the side. "Good, now go to the town center or be sent to the cells," Burt ordered, turning at the heel before striding back towards the ship.

"God damn this place," Andre rasped, shuffling towards the path, "You'd think we'd be setting shore in Louisiana right about now. Instead we're slaves."

"It could be worse," Tori shrugged, "They aren't necessarily forcing us."

"It's blackmail."

"Like I said, it could be worse. And, from where I stand," Tori halted, gesturing towards the mountain view, "It's not bad."

Andre shook his head, muttering, "It's incorrect."

"What are you going to do though?" the youngest offered, following the other. Andre turned, arching a questionable brow. Tori only grinned sheepishly, muttering the most simplest thing she could muster. Andre only rolled his eyes, barely covering his smile before striding up the steps.

"They're pirates."


	2. Saint Denys' Swabbies

_ **No One's Perspective** **-** _

Metal scraped against the stone road as she made a face, shaking her head with disgust. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Andre heaved the heavy wheelbarrow with all of his might, the horse manure - as Tori preferred to call it - in the walled-off pile. He rolled back towards her, forehead beaded with sweat while his braided locks - thanks to the fine woman he'd met at the bar several roads down - were tied back. "I swear if one more horse shits in front of me again..."

"Well, we're done with this street..." Tori gasped, shoveling the last of the pieces. Perhaps it wasn't the worst, nor the best to be given (Andre preferred shoved down his throat) these various tasks of labor. The young man nodded, wheeling the wheelbarrow back towards the compost, setting it to the side gently. "So," she asked, "What do you want to do now?"

Shrugging, Andre scuffed his worn flats (while serving peasants weren't aloud to wear boots, they could wear anything but) against the ground. "Maybe back down towards the food... Could wonder around some too," he offered.

Rolling her eyes, the teen muttered, "You only want to see Cheshie again." Andre didn't deny it. They trailed along the streets, the distant waters of the ocean whistling calmly. The dock, apparent from their small venture some nights before, had wrapped around the various cliffs along the bay, allowing several ships to dock for the time needed. Imports were constantly handled down at the first few streets, Andre quick to ask where everything went.

There was one simple answer.

Everywhere.

The currency of the town was mismatched, costing time for those who needed to calculate the varying amounts due. Cloths were sold as clothing, fresh and new, while food was constantly horded for market down on the first landing. There was no farming on the island, as some of the locals explained, just buildings, ships and caves. The large, fruitful jungle behind was far too dense, and too precious as it _had_ supplied some of the food for Trove Isle. Art, supplies, even horses were all once boarded on the ships unless bred right on the island.

Pirates seemed to have been from all corners of the earth, some with strong, British husks while others with gentle, rapid Korean speech. Children were few and sparse, though the ones that the two encountered were shy and agile, knowing about the ropes of the thieveries life. Not that they had needed to steal as the food was plentiful.

The two had come to realize what Trove Isle was: a safe haven. Pirates of a different kind would gather here, only surviving to live on the island - from what the pair knew, anyhow. Tori glanced towards the mighty mountain that stretched far into the clouds, a decent walking distance from the main town. A great, stone structure sat above, lower than the lighthouse though powerful in its own right. She was right to assume that the Dame had resided in that small castle.

Andre, meanwhile, kept his thoughts on the strong liquor beside the market, grinning mischievously. "So, what do you think of it?"

He was snapped from his thoughts, blinking to his side. "Huh?"

"The town, I mean," Tori explained, "What do you think of it?"

He only shrugged, mumbling, "Fine, I guess. It's not as... _vile_ as some of the other pirate hidings. The place is actually really well kept."

"Well, because they have people like us cleaning it constantly," she pointed out, Andre nodding in agreement. Bells rung from the boats as they made their way to the sanded path, other peasants busying themselves with brooms. They bowed their heads in a quick respect, the working giving a short bob of the head in turn - if they had responded. "How do you know about pirates anyway? I know you said your father went after them, but," she ducked under his arm, making her way into the dimly lit bar, "I'm still curious."

Seating himself at the long stools, Andre answered, "I've been around several ships before..." His expression softened as Tori glanced towards the counter dismally, heaving a weary breath. He patted his calloused hand on her soft one, giving a gentle, apologetic smile. "I sailed with a lot of the British before going with the French and then a few of the Spanish, including the Bay. I've seen some ships being attacked though none of my own. But the captains knew a lot about them... What about you?"

"My home's just south of Louisiana," she murmured, sitting beside her friend.

"In America?" he asked, genuinely intent.

Tori nodded, mumbling, "My mama tends to the farms there. My papa was, erm..." She halted, swallowing, "He was Italian and my mama's from New Spain and that's that."

"What were you going to do when you got home?"

"I don't know," she breathed, shrugging. "I mean, probably held out with the farm... We have some corn, not as good as what people have more out west but it does fine. Have you had corn before?"

"Never," he shrugged, adding, "And I've never been to America either."

"Well, it's good," she assured. "Anyway, I would probably helped around and then marry Daniel. He's just a baker in the town. Him, or Steven who my mom wanted me to marry. He's a part of the main fleet like my papa was. Think he's a lieutenant by now."

"Jesus, how young is he?"

Pursing her lips, Tori mumbled, "Think he's about...twenty-two? Something like that. I haven't seen him in a while. We used to play with each other, Trina, Daniel, him and I, in the grass."

"Damn," Andre breathed, "And I'm not far off but I'm still a tag-along."

Tori chuckled, asking, "How far off?"

"Three years."

"Oh, that's the same as Trina," Tori murmured.

Andre shifted in his seat, glancing around for the barkeeper. "How about you then...if you don't mind me asking," he asked conversationally.

"Coming on seventeen in a few months," she answered. Tori blinked as other guests laughed heartily, a glass crashing against the floor. Half of the room mulled on while others surrounding the man - who looked stricken - glared disapprovingly.

The tender shot up from the corner of the counter, seemingly rummaging through the barrel, arching what could have been an eyebrow replaced with a long, deep scar. "Bloody hell Scorny?" he bellowed, earning the attention of the other chatting guests, "That was part of th' newest shipment that was!"

"My apologies," the man mumbled sincerely, shakily picking up the pieces. Rolling his eyes, the tender went back to his work, muttering about the box full of broken shards.

"What do you think Trina's having to do?"

"Sit in a cell, probably," Andre replied, "Doubt that she'd be doing anything else." The back door opened, shining the early sun's light through the room. Few by the door halted in their meal, some by the bar doing the same. "Oh, and here's the one with her keys now," he commented, Cat striding across the bar.

She turned towards the two, giving a generous grin. "Hi Andre! Hi Tori! Did you finish with your work?"

Both nodded, Andre adding, "If you couldn't tell from the stench." The redhead sniffed before scowling, glaring momentarily at the young man. "So, what brings you here then?"

"Need something in my system before I deal with the captain of one of the barges," she answered. "Keeps on yelling about needed to see the Dame when she _isn't_ here!"

"When will she be back?" Tori asked.

"I don't know," Cat shrugged, leaning against the counter. "Last I was on the Saint Denys they were going to loop around Ireland."

With his eyebrows reaching to the top of his head, he questioned, "How long ago? We're across the Atlantic, right?"

Cat nodded, replying, "That was months ago, and the Saint Denys, damn...she's a fast one."

"Really?"

"Four masts with three on the first two, then the fourth, and two huge 'nes at the third," she explained, "That, and the ruddy thing's built for it." Cat suddenly jerked, her gentle expression snapping to one of great annoyance. In a flash her pistol was at a man's forehead, dark eyes glaring down at him. "Watch it you damned bastard," she snapped, Tori snorting at the dripping coat across her shoulders, "Otherwise you'll find something lodged in your eye."

"I-I'm sorry Madam Felidae, I didn't mean to," he whimpered in his seat. At her stare, he hurtled from the seat, hastily wiping it off for her. She nodded curtly, settling down as he bustled for another stool.

"Madam Felidae?"

Cat shifted in her stool, mumbling, "We all have various names."

Shrugging, Tori muttered, "Makes sense. So, tell me, how is your hair _that_ red?"

The first mate gave a puzzled expression, quickly bumbling, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"How come your hair's red like the Union Jack?" Andre covered for Tori who blinked.

"Oh," she giggled, playing with her locks, "That. Well, I like the color, see, so I paint it with the stuff they have from the ships... My hair isn't curly like it was before but now it's pretty!"

"You...wait, you dye it with wood paint?"

Shaking her head, she humored, "The paint they use for the flags." The pair gawped at one another as she turned towards the bar, opening her mouth to give her request.

However, before anything could pass her teeth, the door slammed open, a man stomping a couple of steps. "Madam Felidae!" he snatched her attention, "The Saint Denys, it's upon the horizon!"

"Jade!" she squeaked absentmindedly, hurling herself from the stool. "So, how far off?"

"Dunno," the man muttered, estimating his guess, "'Bout midday I think. The waves 'round the corner's going to be hectic. They'll probably go around." Cat barely manage to breath a 'thanks' before shooting through the door, Andre and Tori glancing at one another. Both followed at a trotting pace, the younger of the two ignoring his groans.

"Didn't even get to have a sip..."

She rolled her eyes with a small smirk, following Cat as she halted by the steps. "Where is it?" Tori gasped, stopping beside the redhead.

Prodding at the horizon, the first mate answered, "There, right beside that other one." Andre shuffled forward, bending with his eyes slanted.

"How in the world can you _see_ that?" Cat merely shrugged, muttering, "Trained eye." All three stood, watching the two pin-pricked black dots. They seemed to have only stood still, not moving to or fro from the isle. Though Andre didn't doubt Cat's judgement as she practically vibrated at the spot, all in a giddy knot.

That didn't last however.

"MADAM FELIDAE!"

Cat rolled her eyes, turning to the side. "Damn, rangy bastard," she cursed under her breath, barking, "WHAT IS IT?"

The distant figure soon sprinted towards the trio, gasping once at their feet. "Dewy," he gestured towards the small, dinky ship, "She needs some repair...need to get the carpenter out."

"Tori, Andre," Cat ordered, "Go fetch some supplies and get Garves, we need his assistance." Both set off dutifully as Cat and the man began to trail towards the weakening Dewy, eyes wandering frantically for the carpenter's shop.

"Where is it?" Tori asked, Andre breathing in thought.

"I thought it was off towards the cliff," he nodded towards the tall, rocky spike. Their strides slowed at the edge of the dock, arms folded. "Got to be around here somewhere." Tori frowned at the distant hollers, turning her attention towards the ship at the end. It was far superior than that of the ones further down, men bustling quickly with large barrels and chests. Andre turned his gaze with hers, gaping at the men disappearing around the corner. "Those chests..." he hummed quietly.

"What of them?"

"There's a coat hanging out of a few of 'em. They're- They're from a royal navy ship!" he sneered. "Wouldn't doubt if they... The _rotten_ devils!" He wheezed once a great force smacked against him, sending the young man straight to the sand. Twisting around, he found Tori with her arms raised, eyes wide at the long rifle at her chest.

"What d'you think you're doing?" a tall, bulky man snarled, "Ain't supposed to be here."

Gulping, Tori explained, "Madam Felidae told us to find the carpenter's shop for the Dewy! We haven't been here but a few days!"

Light eyes shifted towards her, the near-toothless man spitting, "Likely story."

"Well it's true! Now get your hands off her!" Andre growled, lifting to his feet. The man quickly howled in pain once a fist rocketed towards his jaw, bringing him staggering strides back. Without another thought, Andre snatched the rifle from the ground, pointing the weapon towards the man.

Quickly, he drew his sword, shouting over his shoulder, "GET OVER HERE!" Few of the crew members stopped with their work, snatching their own weapons of choice, racing over towards the scene. "Don't think 'bout shootin' boy," the man snapped, "Or you'll be in a hell of a hole."

"We'll see," Andre bluffed, raising the rifle.

Taking none of it, the man snapped, "I said _don't shoot_!" The sword slashed at the teen, Andre jerking whilst the firearm was struck to the sand. With another swipe making its way, Andre quickly managed to tear a small blade from his belt, smacking it against the sword. Gritting his teeth, the large man jumped forward, Tori swerving out of the war as Andre stumbled into the arms of three.

"Let go of me!" he winced, another blade at the small of his back.

"Andre!" Tori growled. As steps began to flank her side, she snapped, mindlessly swinging at the more tawny boy's jaw; he couldn't have been any older than her, or even as old. He yelped, clutching his bloodied nose whilst two others surrounded her. She snarled as Andre struggled as well. With her vision clouded, ears suddenly ringing, Tori grimaced at the loud thwack. Andre hit the ground with another pirate beside him holding his musket from the barrel. "No- _Get off of me_!" she scrambled, widening her eyes as a Blunderbuss' handle was hurtling towards her. She yanked back, grunting as a hard surface - the cliff - smacked against the back of her head.

The circle about her retreated as she stumbled forward, dark eyes glaring off towards them. She blinked towards the horizon as she fell to her knees, the small blimp of black sailing closer to the island.

Her vision thusly went away, shrouded in black as she barely recalled hitting the burning sand.

**. . .**

The room gradually focused as she groaned, hands picking herself up from the cold, stone surface. Tori blinked to her side, finding Andre sitting, wearily picking at his hands. The bars had jumped at her, the small window hurling itself seconds later. She abruptly jolted, ramming into the back wall. She winced thereafter, standing quietly. Andre followed suit, steps slowly making their way towards the window. "How long have we been down here?" she asked quietly.

"Trina said overnight," he murmured, adding, "Hit us hard on the head, yeah?"

"Trina?" Andre gestured towards the side bars. "Trina!" Tori exclaimed, the elder sister giving a weak smile, "What...how, are you good?"

Shrugging, she answered hoarsely, "They forgot to feed me yesterday morning but gave me a huge lunch. I'm good Tori, I'm fine." The sisters smiled gingerly, dark eyes flickering about.

"So, how long will you be here for?"

"Until they hang me," Trina bluntly answered. Tori opened her mouth to formulate _anything_ in response though a) nothing came to mind and b) voices rang up the hall's stairs, past the heavy, wooden door. The three grew quiet, waiting patiently, intently. The door threw itself open, heavy boots striding assertively down the steps and across the hall. The trio remained silent, staring at the presence at the end of the hall; even her shadow managed to bring chills down their spines.

The woman started again from her halting place, pacing towards the two cells. Her pastel skin clashed against her raven tricorn with a dark green cloth - ripped somewhat eloquently - wrapped around her head, above her brows. Her long, black coat with grey lining reached to her boots - to her knees - whilst belts and other cloths held up grey pants and an impressive dark emerald shirt with white frills. Her strong, stern expression easily made Cat's one of a kitten, even though her teeth weren't bared by any means. While Trina and Andre noted the eccentric, long blades tucked in their customized hilt, a longer sword at her left hip, Tori couldn't tear herself away from her stare. They were their own ocean, her eyes, swamped with green and clouded with grey. They glared right at her, nipping at Tori until she seated herself obediently.

She hadn't used one finger, never the less a pinky.

With Trina already crouched, Andre settled for backing away, the woman giving a small smirk. "Now...now...now," she taunted smoothly, her slight husk tainting her words, "Why are you two down here? All the way down at the bottom... You know, when the full tides come in, you'll be needing long socks."

"Who are you?"

It was a simple question, though she arched a brow nonetheless. "Excuse me?" she murmured quietly.

"I- Erm..." he cleared his throat, blinking, "W-who are you?"

"Of this island," she began, "I am the provider of the home, the state and the hearth."

Tori snapped her eyes back towards the woman, her chest compressing at the realization of the very power at the tip of a pen in this woman's hands. "Hestia...You're, you're Dame Hestia?" she asked quietly.

"'Tis what the locals call me," she murmured, nodding, "But yes, I am."

"What else are you known by?" Andre stepped forward, cautiously. She moved closer to the bars, gripping the cool metal, allowing her sleep to slip down her forearms. On her right, a small, star with four peaks was inked to her wrist, a faded oval in the center. At the raise of a brow, he stuttered, "C-Captain _West_?"

"I see you know _that_ much," she drawled, adding, "Now answer my question: why are you two down here?"

Shifting in their stance, neither of the two answered before Trina hesitantly asked, "What about me?" Pale eyes loomed towards her, arms folding. "I-I mean, am _I_ going to be hung?"

"If you want shut it, sure," Captain West snapped, turning back towards the other two. When receiving no answer, she snarled, "Why the hell do you think you're in here for?"

Before he could stop it, Andre countered, "Maybe because we don't like being slaves to this miserable place!"

Standing back, the Dame gripped her forehead, rubbing her palms against her face. "There's always those few," she muttered quietly, back turned towards the trio. Tori blinked at the faded stitching at the back of the coat, crossing into a large, fat 'X'. Twisting at the heel, Captain West growled, "It doesn't matter if you don't like being the lower class; you were put there for a reason _and_ almost everybody in this island had to work as one, got it?"

Unconvinced, he murmured, "Well, _no_ , because I don't see you shoveling horse shit."

"You ungrateful little _brat_ ," she spat, "Don't go to me saying I don't do shit when this place is as spic and span as your grandmother's kitchen."

"She's a wacked-up witch," he growled, folding his arms.

"Then even _better_ ," the captain finished. "Now if you could shut his trap," pale eyes flicked towards Tori, "perhaps the two..." Captain West blinked towards Trina, sighing softly. "Perhaps the _three_ of you could not be killed within the next week."

Andre made an attempt to speak before Tori barked, "Be _quiet_." He shut his jaw quickly, glancing to his side. Watching the captain cautiously, she slowly maneuvered towards the bars, hands behind her back. "So...you're here to make a deal with us then?"

The captain nodded with a small smirk; "You seem like a smart one," she commented, keeping her gaze locked on the girl, "And so young..."

"You don't seem that much older though," Tori observed, the fair skin far too clean for an older, weathered pirate.

"That would probably be true," Captain West mumbled. "Anyway, yes. I need replacements on my voyages and you three would do well. Now, that is, if you'd rather go on board than rot in here," she continued, "You will work at any task on the ship that any of the crew requires. And, break any law of the Trove's Code, then - seeing your history - you will be thrown overboard. Clear?" All three nodded, the captain smiling. "Good, now thus forth you should refer to me as 'Captain,' or 'ma'am.' Without me, you'd be at the town center by next week."

Pale eyes flickered towards the small window behind the cell. She muttered, "We will leave tomorrow evening."

With that, the captain skirted off, flooding towards the doors before it slammed forcefully. The sisters, in unison, took a long breath, slumping against the cell bars. Andre, however, remained tense, gnawing at his inner cheek. "We're saved," Tori mumbled meekly. Trina nodded along, the young man shaking his head.

"No, no; don't you see? We're _still_ going to be slaves on what damn hellhole she'll bring us to!" he chided lightly. The girls furrowed their brows, Andre exhaling sharply. "Look," he muttered, "Now, okay, I didn't know enough about her to know that she's a _girl_ or that this is her island. But I do know this: she deals with the most horrifying legends of the sea, and I still think she's a witch."

"A witch who just got us from having ropes around our neck," Trina pointed out.

Mumbling in agreement, Tori sighed, "Well, right...them's both true. But our death isn't immediate, so there's that."

"We would steal and do whatever they do," Andre huffed, adding, "We're slaves on a crew, so we'll have to go with what they say."

"But after we're done with that, then we're free to do whatever we want!" Tori muttered, "It's not like we'll be mopping with swords at our heads." He took a moment before hesitantly agreeing, seating himself on the opposite stone bench.

Scratching his neck, he asked, "So, what now then?"

Breathing in, Tori answered simply, "We wait."

**. . .**

The tired gate opened with a groan, a large grin shining down at the duo in the cell. "Hello!" Cat greeted, briefly shifting her gaze towards Trina. She sighed, shuffling with her keys and opening the cell door. As Andre and Tori shuffled out of the cell, Trina only remained at the corner. "You could get out, you know," the redhead growled, the sister standing to her feet. The first mate nodded once she moved towards the door, shuffling out of her way. The eldest quickly joined Tori's side, dark eyes not leaving from Cat. "Well," the redhead chirped, "Let's go!"

She giggled warmly as she bounded down the hall, the trio following, eager to get away from the cells - nicely built, as they were. They swerved around the several corners, the three loosing track of where they were whilst Cat continued to fullheartedly great the mismatched guards at their post. "Morning Harold!"

"Mornin' lass," a bearded man with fiery red hair nodded.

"Hi James!" The man only nodded, Cat quickly turning around before whispering, "He lost his tongue."

Blinking, Andre muttered, "That's...nice."

The small party moved down the hall, greeting and smiling at the few they had passed. Eventually, great doors to the streets opened, all strides leading towards the docks. The amount of beauty was yet unnamable, Tori with her gaze set towards the clean streets and sharply crafted buildings. Both Andre and Tori nodded towards the peasant at the side who waved her hat in turn. The boards of the docks creaked underneath their steps, Cat almost hopping at the sight of the largest, most magnificent ship there. "Holy shit," Andre swore, eyes glued towards the tall masts, reaching towards the clouds. The black wood of the ship gleamed earnestly in the late sun, lamps lighting the beauty on board. Along the side, _Saint Denys_ shone in bolded, grey letters, a woman with a long fish-tail holding a trident in one hand, and her head in the other at the front.

Cat continued only when she beckoned them to move towards the beast of a ship which absolutely towered over the measly others. "Captain West!" she waved excitedly. The Dame turned in the distant, breaking her conversation with another, balding man. As the four made their way over, eyes constantly casted towards the ship, the first mate giggled, "They think the ship looks nice."

"Rightly so," Andre murmured.

Captain West only nodded curtly, turning back towards the man. He stood, a long, jagged scar over his right eye, piercing blue glancing towards the three. "These are them," she mumbled.

"Alright," he smiled briefly, flashing a gold line of teeth at the back left. "Why hello ladies, and you sir," he bowed lightly, "I'm Sikowitz. You are?"

"Trina," the eldest murmured. Andre greeted himself as Tori had, the man nodding once with each one.

"Introduce them to the rest of the crew, would you?" Captain West asked, "I have to look at the maps."

Grinning as the Dame left, Sikowitz ushered all four to the ship. "Well, I suppose you know Cat," he observed, "But we have some others up here too." He halted at the foot of the long ramp towards the Saint Denys, pursing his lips. He blinked towards the long, torn dress, and then the practical rags the two others wore.

"What is it?" the first mate asked.

Shaking his head, Sikowitz murmured, "Go ahead, I'm just thinking they'd need something else to wear." Cat only glanced towards the three, shrugging before trotting up the ramp. Waving a hand, he promised, "Well, I'll get somethin' on board. Have some spare clothing, you see? Anyway, come on." He lead the rather nervous group up the ramp, boarding the Saint Denys successfully. "Hey!" he barked, his smooth, mellow voice scratched as other crew members gathered around the deck. "Alright, so this crew is still a bit smaller than what we'd want," Sikowitz explained, "But we do need to get going right away... So, line up you bastards!"

Obediently, the members set themselves in a straight line, only curving towards the ends. "Alrighty, let me introduce everyone," the man smiled, "So for you lot, that is Andre, Trina and Tori. They'll do whatever needs to be done and _should_ follow every one of your word." The trio nodded as there was a hum of understanding. "So, let's start at the end for you," Sikowitz strode towards the left. "Here is Patrick-" a scrawny man with a white eye smiled "-Tremor-" a pale man hobbled on the hilt of his sword, his leg bent awkwardly at the knee "-and then Festus, he's the cook now-" a man with his hair slicked back nodded "-then we have...Gandhi, what is your name?"

The woman with long platinum hair huffed, "Archean."

"Right," Sikowitz snapped his fingers, "Archean... Such a funny name. Anyway, here's Derek-" he gestured towards a tall, masculine man with a straight frame "-then Lane-" the gentle man smiled towards the group, giving a short 'hello.' Sikowitz continued with Sally, a more natural ginger than Cat, Brantley, a smaller man with a stockier build, and then finally, Jupiter, a great, big mutt. "That's the capt'n's," he explained, the four-legged terror snorting before stalking off. "And that's that!" Sikowitz clapped his palms, giving a great grin. "So...you bastards get back to work and I'll have these lassies - and the sir - something else to wear." The line dispersed, bustling with their individual jobs. "Right...right..." the man hummed, "So! Let's get on wit' it then."

He started off, glancing over his shoulder once he had realized no steps followed suit. "Well come on then!" he waved over, "Ain't nobody gonna bite!"

The young adults blinked at one another, shuffling behind the generous man. Tori gave a small smile at his pierced ear, a small gold flower dangling from the silver hook.

**. . .**

The Saint Denys rocked rhythmically with the waters, proudly shining in the moonlight which drowned the several plain, dark grey sails - Tori had counted at least two on the three masts aside from the center. The dark trousers had fit her better than the rags from before, a light, maroon coat hugging her shoulders. She blinked down at the sturdy, black colonial shoes, thankful for Sikowitz's promise. Tori groaned at the white left splattered on the floor.

And thus began her loathing of seabirds.

Nevertheless, she began to mop the white, not wanting it to stain - it would be terrible for her neck if it had. She shook her head, continuing with the cleaning. Her attention was picked up, however, once familiar clicks of boots made their way to the captain's side, the Dame's grip on the wheel not leaving. "So," Cat began in a hushed tone, her voice not cheery as it had been before, "how far along?"

"If we don't get in the way of the storms," the captain began, clutching a small telescope in one hand, "we should be around a week's time." The redhead nodded, briefly looking her shoulder as Tori continued her work, not realizing that she had paused.

"What of them?"

"Of who?" Captain West glanced towards the stars.

"The swabbies," Cat gestured towards the deck below, Andre heaving a barrel across whilst Trina held her own mop and bucket. Dame Hestia arched her brow, the first mate adding, "What of them when we get to the island?"

Folding her arms, the captain pursed her lips. "We'll figure that later. We just need to see how valuable they are at the moment, and _then_ they could see to their decisions," she answered quietly.

Cat stood for a moment, murmuring, "They're strange..."

"Who?"

"All of them. The boy's got some spirit-"

"Like he's younger than you," the captain smirked.

Cat glared to her side, grumbling, "Right... And the sisters are weird too. Why did you let her on again? Her mouth runs faster that the blinking stars!"

"A rival with yours?" The captain chuckled at her own prod, Cat folding her arms. "She could prove useful," Captain West finished firmly. Dark eyes glanced over her shoulder, Tori continuing with her work nervously. Pale eyes followed, blinking towards the young woman. "She as well..." the Dame hummed.

"I would've thought you'd kill them immediately," Cat muttered, turning back towards the front.

Captain West exhaled slowly, fiddling with the telescope in her hands. "Yes...but we need those like that with us now," she admitted hesitantly.

"You want those who disobey the code?"

"I want those who can disregard laws, not of the code's," the captain corrected. Glancing down towards the page nailed to the ledge, Captain West ordered, "Now guide the ship forward, straight. Don't turn for the night...we should best avoid the flota's fleet. They'll be looking for her father's ship and any other survivors." At that, Tori halted in her work, furrowing her brows towards the water within the confines of the wooden bucket. The murmuring behind her went unnoticed, as well as the steps thumping towards her.

She only blinked at the light shadow, the hanging lantern beside her dimming. Tori blinked towards the woman beside her, brows stern and set. Both glanced towards the cleaned mess, Tori murmuring, "Got it done captain." Captain West merely bobbed her head, the swabbie picking up the bucket.

"You can head to the women's cabins now, your sister shall join you once she's done," the Dame muttered stiffly.

Tori chewed her bottom lip, brows furrowed as the captain began to stride away. "Wait!" she snapped her head towards the halted figure. With an arched brow, she turned towards the young woman, gaze warning. Despite that fact, Tori asked weakly, "Are we slaves?"

Captain West took a moment to revise her answer, eventually growling, "You should learn we all are in one way or another." Her strides echoed in Tori's skull, doe eyes only blinking once the cabin's door slammed below her.

Her legs guided her towards the steps, mind buzzing frantically. "Night Tori." She paused, glancing towards Cat who gave her a kind smile. Tori only bobbed her head, marching down the steps dutifully. The bucket swung in her grasp before she set it down, hauling the water over the side. Before she had managed to place the bucket in its proper shelf, Andre waved.

"Can I use that? There's something that Trina can't get out," he gestured towards the elder sister who swore heatedly at the floor, spewing obscenities about having too much ale. Tori nodded, handing him the supplies before making a step towards the trap door. "Wait, are you done?"

"Captain said I could," she answered quietly. Andre nodded, biding her a good rest before she disappeared under the deck. The peaceful snores of the sleeping men brought her gaze along the hall, Sikowitz shifting in his hammock. During the day, she'd come to note that - in an odd fashion - each one of them was a gentleman in his own right. She quietly bounded across the stretched room, jerking once Derek stumbled against the doorway.

"Whosthere?" he slurred.

Blinking, the young woman answered truthfully, "Tori. Just trying to get to sleep."

"Oh..." he blinked, rubbing his eyes, "Well, alright. Don't wake me...please." She assured her promise, slipping past the small opening in the wall, the door already ajar. Sally and Archean were already fast asleep, slightly swinging in their hammocks as the ship gracefully followed the wave's bumps. Another hammock swung in the middle, Prurple resting in the middle. Giving a small chuckle, Tori swiftly maneuvered towards the back hammock, a small, glass window overlooking it. Nimbly, she climbed onto it, dully recalling Archean teaching her how to properly not face plant into the floor.

Her nose still felt numb, a hand clutching it sourly.

Doe eyes lingered towards the foot of her swinging, cloth bed, her brows creasing into her nose in concentration. _Protect The Trove With All Of Your Skill, And You Shall Be Protected With Her Will_ was carved morbidly in the wood. The phrase lingered in her mind, unable to be shaken away. However, _her_ words had foretold quite the different tale. Tori furrowed her brows, resting her head above her palms.

The wood creaked at the newcomer, bringing her attention towards the front. Trina pursed her lips meekly, shuffling towards the side hammocks. Easing herself into the lower one, its grey cloth clashing against the beige of the others, Trina sighed wearily. Neither sister spoke that night, only listening to the waves just a wall thick from them, and the rocking of the sleeping crew around. Eventually, Andre's soft steps creaked down the hall, his hammock rustling as he shifted in.

Prurple watched Trina as she stared at it dully, easing her into a gentle sleep. A gentle sleep, which, would be abruptly tarnished by the morning, her shaken sobs hurtling her to the floor. Though, because it wasn't morning but midnight, she crept into a soundless sleep. Tori, meanwhile, only watched the cricketing moon from the window, thoughts swarming around the conflicting statements. They spun her mind in wander, especially with those pale, glaucous eyes bearing down at her soul.

Eventually, she closed her eyes softly, dreaming of three things: a cozy farm, a goat and a sheep.


	3. The Island of Slate and Women

**_No One's Perspective_ ** **_-_ **

_He lurched from his knees as the musket smoked in the other's grasp, plummeting to the ground ferociously._

She turned in her hammock, wincing as the shot echoed in her head.

_Red dripped as she shuffled away, the thick black pouring from his head._

Shivering, the young woman turned once again in her cloth bed, whimpering softly.

_White, livid flames ate the Bay Mestiza alive, leaving nothing but sodden ashes and board pieces at the water's wake._

Trina toppled to the ground, groaning immediately once smacking against the wooden floor. Hot tears began to prickle her vision, limbs shaking violently. The other four turned their heads at the mess curled misshapen under the swinging hammock. Cat, with Prurple in her hazy grasp, blinked, brows slanted whilst Sally and Archean behind whispered curiously. Arms soon found their place around her shoulder, Trina burying herself against the younger sister.

"P-Papa..." she whined, Tori remaining mute as she closed her eyes.

In a quiet breath, she only murmured, "I know...I know..."

**. . .**

The sun blared onto the proud ship, footsteps shuffling about with their tasks. Most chores involved the care of several aspects of the ship, though not much _was_ needed to be cared for - they had only just been sailing barely over a half-a-day. Though, bustling about with the several, leftover chests was required. Andre was amongst the men, heaving a large barrel with Derek. Tori - secluded to the side of the deck - grimaced as some substance oozed from the side, tainting the wood with a dark stream.

"What is that?" she asked, Andre briefly flashing his attention towards her.

"Dunno, some booze I think. Aged too," he guessed with a quick shrug.

Derek nodded, muttering, "S'been down there for a while... Don' know how long at the port." The young woman furrowed her brows, knowing that the "port" wasn't anywhere close to Trove Isle, perhaps still in disarray. Keeping her thoughts, doe eyes wandered back towards the vast blue, lost in what curiosities were held in its grasp. Swarms of shining, silver fish perhaps, or possibly great, swerving sharks and other beasts had made their home in the waters. Leaning against the railing, she felt her elbows dig into the wood. What of the creatures spoken about? She dully recalled Andre saying somethings about how the murky waters, at times, would show bad fortune.

 _Myths_ , her thoughts explained, _Just myths to give a child's imagination a run for their money._

Settled with her conclusion, the teen snapped her attention to the side, Archean waving - with a small crate - her over. "Some jackass knocked over a glass!" she beckoned, eyeing the quivering man by the front. Tremor only shrugged, keeping his grasp at the hilt of his sword. "Bastard," she shook her head quietly, turning back towards Tori. Arching a brow as the other trudged over, she gestured towards the small puddle sparkled with glass. "Clean it, would ya? Got me hands all tied." Tori nodded, shuffling towards a slopping bucket and a mop all set from Andre's previous and abandoned task.

The mess was soon handled, the white-eyed man giving a small grin. "Sorry 'bout that. Had a box of 'em in me hands," he sheepishly smiled, "Though they'll come in handy once we figure out what that is." He nodded towards the leaking barrel, adding, "Seems to have aged well from the smell."

"Yeah," was Tori's only response as she watched the man hobble off, giving a small smile. He was a quirky one for sure, as she had thought by that time. Setting the supplies back into the small cupboard, the young woman curiously turned to doors above opening and slamming shut.

The captain stood at the small ledge overlooking the deck, crossing her arms as Andre wondered about, not quite knowing what to do. "Hey!" He turned immediately, standing straight at her silent order.

"Yes ma'am?" he asked obediently.

"Nobody's up at the crow's nest, why don't you do it?" Andre gawped as steps creaked down the seven stairs, the Dame with her arms folded. "Well? Are you going to start climbing or what?" Tori furrowed her brows as the young man blinked up towards the crow's nest, which sat dutifully at the top of the first mast, above the first and second sails. Gulping, he blinked back towards the captain. Doe eyes, meanwhile, traced along the white shirt that Captain West was bearing, no emerald shirt or long coat to be found. Black, inked (as suspected by Tori) only barely graced her shoulder, a sliver of a line to be seen in addition to the one printed at the wrist. "Andre, is it?" she asked, receiving a nod as a reply. "Well, we are going to a rather tall island and you have to climb with us. So," a small smirk quirked her lips, "Why don't you get practice?"

"I- I...uhm..." he drew out.

"Afraid of heights?" Dame Hestia murmured. Bobbing his head vigorously, she ordered, "Go up to the top and don't come down until you see the island."

Blinking dumbly, he sputtered, "But what about food?"

"Derek and Festus will be in charge of that," she swiftly promised, turning at her heel. "Though," ocean-deep eyes found the half-Latina, "your pretty little friend here will have to remind them... Won't you, Vega?"

"Yes, captain," she murmured, shrinking at the small, devious grin playing full lips.

"Well then... Andre, get your ass up there and _you_ get your ass moving and do something."

"Yes, captain," Tori repeated, heavy boats storming back to the cabin. The young man gulped, blinking towards the vacant cup above. Siding with her friend, Tori mumbled, "Why don't you climb up there now and get a nice view?"

He shook his head quickly. "No...n-no, I can't- Uh, uh."

"What's wrong?" Tori furrowed her brows.

Taking a shuddering breath, he answered, "I don't like being far from the ground."

The swabbie, lifting her chin towards the height of it, only mouthed, "Oh..." Shrugging, she apologetically muttered, "Well, I think she'd throw you off if you didn't do it so-"

"Please don't make me."

"Andre, you have to," she stated softly. He bobbed his head hesitantly before his steps shuffled slowly to the mast. With sweaty palms, he clutched the wooden rail, eyes to the bottom of the crow's nest.

"Alright," his voice hitched, "I'll do it...okay."

Within the amount of time that had taken the poor soul to reach the top, Sikowitz had stood at Tori's side, sipping from an odd bowl. "What...what _is_ that?" she asked, staring at the estranged sphere, "And, why is it hairy?"

"This, m' lady," he grinned casually, "Is a coconut and inside it is milk." He stopped enjoying his small treat when the teen gawped as a response, his right eye stretching his long scar questionably. "Do you want some?" She shrugged, cupping her hands around the - she frowned at the thought - _coconut_ , taking a small sip from it. Almost immediately she recoiled, pushing the hairy food to the older man. He merely barked in laughter, sipping on the hole drilled into the side another time. "Sweet?"

" _Strange_ , more like."

"Eh, whatever floats your boat," he passively hummed, draining the rest of the ball. "Hey Andre!" he waved his left palm in an exaggerated motion. The frightened man whipped his wide eyes towards the pair below, his broad shoulders still clasped around the mast. "I think you better let go and get in the crow's nest. It's better if you do that!"

"I did and it doesn't seem sturdy!" he yelped back, eyeing the small hole at the base of the small structure.

Sikowitz waved, shaking his head in amusement. "Oh don't worry! The amount of times someone has said that to the number of times someone has fallen during my time here is much, much greater!"

"How many people have fallen off this damned, God-forbidden bucket?" Andre spat, earning a small snort from Tori.

"Oh...let's see," Sikowitz furrowed his brows. "Hold that here," he muttered, shoving the coconut to the swabbie beside him. "Let's see now... One," he started with his left index, "...two...three..." As his counting grew softer, words filling his mind rather the air, he moved to his right hand, then his left foot and right foot. "Uhm... Alright," he turned towards Tori, "Why don't you just set that down _there_ , right and..." Tori, perplexed as she glanced towards the rolling coconut along the barrel beside her, shuffled as Sikowitz began to prod at her fingers. "Alright...so there was that and- You don't have any missing toes, do you?" Shaking her head, the man muttered, "That's good, er... Right, okay. Cat messed me up once because of her weird feet...missing a li'l one. Uh..."

Andre, at the peak of his tolerance level, shouted, "Why is it taking so long?"

"So, eh..." Sikowitz turned his attention to the quivering Andre hugging the pole, "Right. Well, more than twenty."

"What?! You're supposed to make me feel better to get me on!"

"Don't worry! That's just twenty-something people out of the twenty-something years I've been on the her!" he patted Saint Denys' mast, "Don't worry about it, son!"

"Why not?"

"Well, because there's always one each year. No more, no less," Sikowitz grinned.

Andre, quite at his last straw, bellowed angrily, "And how in God's name is that supposed to help?"

"One already fell of this year."

Andre nodded carefully, then asking against his will, "And what happened to him?"

Sikowitz turned to Tori with a sincere expression. "Should I tell him that he didn't have much of a head afterwards or just say he was...fine?"

"Uh..." she mumbled, eyes wide, "How about 'he was fine'?"

"Good call...it was horrible to clean up," he nodded, shouting, "He landed on his feet like a cat! Was able to walk away afterwards even! You'll be fine!"

Andre, easing his toe into the crow's nest, bobbed his head. "O-okay, I'm doing it."

With Andre in the bowl above two sails, Sikowitz shuffled around for his coconut. "I'm going to, uh, fill this with some booze...I have to drink for the boy."

"But you just said he'll be fine!" Tori stammered.

"And you told me to tell him the lass before landed on the opposite side of his body," Sikowitz retorted pointedly before swishing to find the alcohol resting in several barrels below.

Tori, for some time, watched her quivering friend as he remained in the crow's nest, not able to yet peek to the seas just from the rim. Though, her leisure time had drained away once Festus stomped from the cabin below the front, eyes quickly wondering towards the teen. "Hey you! Mind the soup, would ye'? Half to ask the cap'in 'bout the damn fish," his voice rattled.

Tori hurriedly nodded, darting past the chef as he grumbled about not being able to catch any bait with his measly twig.

**. . .**

Four times, she counted. _Four_ times she had counted where the captain had to intervene. The first was from a simple passing by, black boots on their way to the chef - Festus, as she recalled - and a quick, "Doing great, Vega." Tori had glowered at that - the Cheshire grin which exposed a flash of silver at the back of her mouth. She hadn't appreciated the way the modest, chiding tone had dwelled in her thoughts.

Perhaps because she didn't _stop_ with the tone.

Secondly, she had finally rested the tools against the edge, readying the bucket to pour the water before the familiar clicks sounded behind her. Tori found the captain clad with her longcoat just draping over her shoulders, still no emerald shirt worn. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"I'm getting ready to pour this out?" the young woman smiled gingerly before quickly adding, "Ma'am?" Captain West arced a brow, gesturing with a firm index finger towards several blotches around the deck. "B-but I went over those-"

"I want it as clean as your experience with the seas, Vega," Dame Hestia snapped, nonverbally urging Tori to nod vigorously. At the turn of the heel, she strode back to her cabin, shutting the door behind. Tori blinked as the sun's sinking light flickered against it. The sky was turning already, though the night was still far to come.

And when the skies churned into a blood orange, the teen smiled, proud of her handiwork. Captain West strode back towards the young woman, glancing along the floorboards. "Must say, I'm impressed Vega... Even got that damn spot from last time," she murmured.

"Yeah, what was that?" the other asked, throwing out the bucket (at last!).

"Someone's head was crushed there," came a simple - yet morbid - answer.

Whisking about, Tori blubbered, "Wha- That was _blood_ and...stuff? How?"

With a ginger smile which wasn't one of taunt, Captain West murmured, "Fell... Not one of ours, no - things happen at sea."

"Like how many things?"

The woman - who _couldn't_ possibly have been much older that Tori, as she suspected - and her smile briefly slipped away, off to another time, another place. "If only you knew, Vega...though I expect you to figure that out soon." The younger woman gulped, shrinking at the accusatory glare before her. "No more questions." It wasn't a statement but a weak order.

Both, however, jumped at the guttural hurling of a groan several lengths above, a sickening splatter squelching against the deck. The two glanced up to find Andre sheepishly staring down at the ground, an apologetic expression across his green-tainted skin. "Sorry..." his voice cracked. Tori groaned at the large pool of vomit down below, the captain's face mirroring hers.

Glancing to her side with saddened eyes, Tori found her answer to be a short nod. "Go clean it," came another bark, Captain West glaring at the spot before sending her stare towards the teen up above. Boots clicked heavily down below the deck, her duties lying elsewhere. Tori - once managing to find another bucket of water - swabbed the area with Andre constantly yelling down his apologies.

"I tried to hold it in, I swear!" he added.

"SHUT UP!" she barked, lungs full of disclosure. Andre nodded briskly, sinking in the crow's nest as Tori rolled her eyes. It smelt of salt, bread and intestines - there was no need for apologies as she wouldn't take any. And by the time she rested herself against the small overhand below the captain's cabin, her eyes dropped to a close. Stars began to bleed into the night's sky, biding her to fall asleep. Though, with the soft hum of conversation above, she assumed the opposite would come true for the night.

Sikowitz grumbled a response - she couldn't quite tell - before stepping out and through the door. The creaks of the floorboards above sent small dust settlements on her shoulders, the man marching down the steps. He whisked himself away to the other side of the ship, climbing up the ladder to join the poor boy who crooned softly. "And so after the island, what else?"

Tori perked at Cat's voice, imagining the other's hand on the door.

"Well, I already told you what I need to do."

Captain West's voice was stern, especially compared to the silence followed thereafter. "You mean you're going _back_?!" Cat asked bluntly, unsettlement dripping from her words, "Are you crazy? Even I wouldn't go near that woman again!"

Tori distantly heard a heavy sigh, her ear pressed against the smooth wood beside her. "Well I'm not saying that's the whole point of all this! We'll pick up things as we go like always-"

"But last time-"

"I _know_ Ariana," the dame snapped as the younger woman squeaked, "But you forget what that woman's wielding. I can't just have that hell-bound thing with her, especially since her fleet's growing by the minute! You know she has her eyes on Trove Isle and is making her way over."

"You have a locket too and Lady Lee, she'll kill you if she see-"

" _Enough_ , you signed up to this. Don't start turning around now!" the captain growled, quickly silencing Cat. Not a second later, Madam Felidae promised her apologies, sending Captain West down the short steps to the deck. "What are you doing, Vega?" she sent her glare towards the swabbie.

"I- Uh...I got done with the, the cleaning," Tori rushed her answer. "Ma'am," she added at the raise of a brow.

Rolling her eyes, Captain West grumbled, "Well what are you doing just sitting there?"

"I-I don't have anything to do...ma'am," Tori explained.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, her tolerance was at a low beforehand, stretching to the depths of Davey Jones' Locker. "I swear if I hear another 'ma'am' in this conversation, I'll blow my top off," she spat, "Now go and get the last chest from below. The one with the gold lock." As she watched the teen before her stand around, Captain West barked, "Go, God damn it! Get the chest!"

Stumbling about, Tori rocketed across the deck, her paces quick down the flight of stairs. Immediately she found the chest tucked against a corner of the long cabin - stretching to the makeshift kitchen were Festus and Jupiter busied themselves with storage and a line of cannons on each side. She smiled gently at the sight of Jupiter chowing through a wooden bowl of scraps, the chef mumbling through his handiwork.

Shaking her head, Tori began clasping the chest by the handles, heaving with all of her strength.

Her back felt as if it were to snap, the chest only grinding against the floor for a measly foot. "Damnation," she spat, heaving once more. The grinding of the plated corners shrieked around the room, sending Festus on edge, Jupiter pawing his ears.

"Quit with that you whore!" he shouted across the length of the ship, his strong teeth clamping in a mad fury. Tori had made a mental note to never interrupt Festus in _any_ profession. Nevertheless, she glared at the man who held a wooden spoon in a shaken hand. "Don't you move-" The chest squeaked horribly, a small smirk plastered across Tori's face. (She figured that perhaps she could interrupt him, seeing as the pulsating vein across his reddening forehead was entertaining. That is, until the wooden spoon whistled right passed her ear with dangerous accuracy.)

He rolled her eyes at her started frame, his heavy _thumps_ of steps making their way towards her. Grabbing the handle to the right, he barked, "Pick it up." Obediently, she hurled her strength up the stairs as he grumbled, both setting the chest at the foot of the last step. Without a word - though none was needed with his livid glance - Tori was left alone with the captain staring at her, unamused.

"So...where do I put this then?" A firm index finger gestured towards the captain's quarters, Tori nodding slowly. "Okay...all the way?"

"Yes," Dame Hestia hissed. Taking a deep breath, Tori attempted to hoist the chest once again, managing a couple of steps. "Really?" the captain groaned, "You need to get moving!"

"I'm _trying_ ," Tori turned towards the side. "Ma-" she began, quickly adding, "Captain."

Exhaling sharply, Captain West growled, "You better have something better than those seagull-bones there." Tori grumbled at the chiding nature of the words, the older woman setting off towards the cabin. Struggling all the way, Tori managed to bring the chest to the captain's cabin.

She blinked at he interior of the room, finding the opposite of what she had expected. Though, at a second thought, there really wasn't an expectation. Maps, stargazers, and several chairs around a large table with more maps were what cluttered the room. Another door was set aside, Tori assuming that to be the bed's space. "Down there," came an order, the swabbie dutifully shuffling beside two bookshelves.

"What...is this stuff, exactly?" she breathed. Not that she hadn't seen all of the items before, though her questions were often denied by the occupants of the Bay Mestiza.

"Have you never looked at a map before?" The captain's question was a serious one, none of the taunting laced within it. Though, bafflement had been strewn across her face.

"Uh...my papa had told me some but not...really, no," Tori shook her head. "So...what do you do with it?"

Gnawing at the inside of her cheek briefly, the dame answered, "Read the stars and calculate where we are in the world."

"Huh..." Tori hummed, thusly asking, "So...you're not a witch then."

Giving a sly smirk, Captain West shook her head. "No, being an astronomer has nothing to do with being a witch."

The half-Latina blinked at the vague answer, finding herself then ushered from the cabin and into the dark sky above. With the trillions of lights in the sky, her brain swelled against her skull at the possibility of doing anything with the stars.

Even so, she lingered on the balcony, watching the lights as they seem to trickle across the raven blanket.

**. . .**

He continued to sag against the small ledge of the nest, his eyes dismally watching the floorboards below him. While the several lamps were able to be spotted very easily - even in the day - the boards blurred together like a twining mass of snakes. That hadn't been his original depiction, not by a long shot, though jagged lines soon became long worms, and then snakes. The more he thought, the closer - he felt - he was to the minds of the people below. In any case, he would be closer than all of the crew combined than his grandmother, _'Even if I am right on top of her,'_ he thought dully.

With his routine checks, he glanced towards the waters, shrugging at the small plot of grey.

Andre's eyes widened immediately, his head snapping back towards the grey spot. "Land..." he murmured, standing to his feet. "Is that..." While he was too far to know or calculate distance, the small plot of grey seemed far too small for any great country. "Island..." he mumbled, "I found- I see the... _Mary_ _-mother-of-Christ_!" Spinning about wildly, he grinned at the bell, his hand grasping the smooth - though with rough patches - rope.

The bell's shrill rang with his excited words, "Island! There's an island up ahead!"

A small crowd burst through all angles, the captain slamming the door open. She blinked towards the island as the crew glanced at each other curiously. "Would you quit with the bell?" the captain barked, ending the celebratory shenanigans to a sheepish discovery. She jerked as the door abruptly swung behind her, Cat racing out of the room with a map in her grasp.

"Who's attacking us?" she yelped.

Rolling her eyes, Damn Hestia muttered, "Andre's desire to get to land."

**. . .**

The Saint Denys anchored itself to the deep, small dock's side, the creaking boards of the overhanging wood supporting ten pairs of boots and shoes. As two conversed themselves, leading their paces towards the sweet aroma of fruits, the rest of the eight began hoisting themselves towards the stone steps arching their way to the middle of the great island's peak.

Left aboard was a whining pooch, a scarred man with great blue eyes, another, relatively quieter, man with two sisters.

Exchanged glances were shared amongst the swabbies, Andre trailing behind Derek to the peak above, that much higher than the crow's nest.

**. . .**

Gravelly slate had rested in his conscious as his hands continued to tremble against the top of the otherwise rather smooth material. His dark eyes wavered cautiously to those around him, all practically gliding up the jagged mountain - the slate poked out in strange, though climbable, formations - besides the quivering man beside him. He blinked towards Tremor as his one white eye shifted creepily about, finding a nice edge to grip. "Just a crow's nest," Andre whispered his chorus, now grateful for his _horrid_ night cooped up several feet from the safe deck. "Just...just a crow's nest."

"You a slow one too?" Tremor smirked beside him, easing his thin weight higher.

Breaking a small smile, Andre answered, "Not usually...I'm, ah, not too fond of heights."

"Not irrational," the man nodded, "I sometimes am wit' all of this shakin'. Though I 'spect if I fell now, the water wouldn't feel too hard."

"Wouldn't it feel the same at any height?" Andre hoped - he never had any situation with the possibility of _falling_ such a dangerous height.

Tremor shook his head seriously, replying, "Seen it me-self... Get too high and the water's same as the very rock we climb. Now come on, we best get going."

That was helpful.

Andre gulped, glancing down towards the swarming swell of blue, glaring at it's false promise. He shook, feeling quaking tremors at the base of his gut. "Just a crow's nest," he choked out, ushering himself up, "Just a crow's nest." Gluing his eyes towards the others, he watched how each and every one of them just continued, only resting when there was a rather difficult path to take. Derek huffed, careful not to have the bow stretched across his back snag with the slate juts. Sally went up with ease, her limbs a spider's as her eyes were eager for the top - she was the highest up. The captain wasn't far behind, her vertical steps not as speedy though took long strides. Archean, towards the center and beside Derek, was leisure, attention constantly flowing back to the waters in thought. Cat remained close to the captain, constantly having to shift among the awkward rocks. And then there was that other ginger - _Patrick_ , Andre assumed. He was alike Captain West, though the avarice glinted in his eyes (not that Andre could see that).

He took in a swig of cold, brisk and very fresh air, filling his lungs. "Just a crow's nest," he wheezed, "Just a crow's nest." Momentarily, he blinked at the dame, catching what he swore was a snarky glint and a lingering smirk.

"Just a crow's nest," Andre grunted forward.

He knew she was entertained.

"The _gank_ ," he spat, pleased with his newfound slur.

**. . .**

All was calm on the galleon, Sikowitz the only one patrolling with a leisure pace. Jupiter continued to lick his large paws with his gargantuan pink tongue. Occasionally, he would perk at the sound of water slashing against the hull. Blue eyes would study the mutt before lingering over the edge of the water. Trina, fanning herself with a short book, sat beside her sister who stared at the island ahead.

It really was quite the site, especially with the small, little flea-like dots climbing its side. The sun wavered along the sky, night soon promising its reign in a few hours time. Heaving a long sigh, Tori turned questionably once the older man had busied himself to his rifle which had previously leaned against the foremast. Jupiter, as she saw, wasn't in his spot but instead trotting to and fro the deck. "Where is she, boy?" Sikowitz grumbled quietly, the large dog giving a soft whine.

Chocolate eyes swept towards the scar along the man's face, his expression creasing to a determined one. "Brantley and the sisters," he started over his shoulder, "Get something to shoot wit'."

"What?" Trina halted the breeze sweeping to her warm face, "What's wrong?"

"Just get it! If we're lucky and I'm going insane -"

"Too late for that..." the eldest sister muttered.

"- we won't need it," Sikowitz finished. Brantley, coming from the side, strode towards the older man. He staggered once the rifle was shoved in his grasp, a pistol firmly in Sikowitz's grip. Blue eyes swam across the side, raising along the captain's cabin.

Clearing his throat, the younger man asked quietly, "What about over there?" He jerked his chin towards the headless, wooden woman along the beak.

Raising his index finger, Sikowitz murmured, "Smart boy."

"Uh...Sikowitz?" Trina turned as Tori leaned from the foremast, "Is she supposed to be there?" Her pointing led the two men to find a long fin dangling from the bow-strip, a half-naked woman smiling gingerly at them with long locks of curled hair.

"Intelligent boy..."

The trio rushed towards the front of the Saint Denys, Tori already gripping the wood as she leaned closer towards the hypnotizing figure. "Hello there," she smiled, her teeth notably strong and white, "Would you like to swim with me?"

Sikowitz, gently pushing the young woman aside, muttered a firm _no_. He turned towards the other three hesitantly - his ears still strained towards the creature - finding only Trina staring at the woman in disturbance. Brantley and the younger sister, however, cocked their heads to the side, their eyes glued to the scene in wonder.

It hadn't helped that the half-naked woman held no effort to cover her chest, _nor_ halt in her teasing, scaled tail.

The man turned back towards the creature, his brows set firmly across his forehead. "Get off the ship," he growled before a crack whipped through the air.

Wielding his smoking pistol, Sikowitz staggered to find the creature still there, screaming in agony. Her skin, however, grey to a rotting grey, eyes a glowing yellow while sharp teeth seemed to have shot through her gums and rested in place. "I said, _GET OFF THE DAMN SHIP_!" Sikowitz roared, another shot fired between her eyes. She rolled off, hurling herself into the watery depths below.

Jupiter began barking angrily over the side of the Saint Denys, the hull's tears ringing in his ears. "What was that thing?" Trina asked as the other two hurriedly readied their weapons.

"A Wan-nymph... There are items on this island that are curse, and all women who touch it will soon die and turn into one. They're corpses, not seductive beings," he explained, shooting a quick - though amused and understanding - glare towards the two with their firearms in their hands. "Often times, they're referred to as 'pseudo-maids,' though don't get confused between the two. They are completely different beings." He sniffed, another shot pointed to the side of the hull, an enraged wail following. "Now come on! We can't get these things to drag us down with them!"

The trio bustled towards the side of the deck, finding a swarm of Wan-nymphs hugging the sides with long claw-like nails. Tori, as she continuously shot, making all of her targets, felt that she had been plunged in a child's dark fantasy.

**. . .**

"Don't touch anything that we take, don't let your flesh feel the cold of the metals." The captain's words of caution had dwelled in the young man's consciousness, though Patrick and Sally continued to null forward, attention lacking.

The constant, distant shots rang in their skulls, Andre giving a glance over his shoulder every once and a while. However, there was no view to be seen as he strode up stone steps in a twisting tunnel, the rough stone holding torches long put out. He followed Derek as the man followed the others, Jade whispering quietly with Cat. "So...I thought we were going to be here in a week, not a day," he mumbled quietly.

"Usually the captain will give a week or two more than what she predicted as the seas, well, are _unpredictable_ ," Derek murmured, "So oftentimes, we're quicker than what's said. It helps...especially whenever we're followed."

Gulping, Andre asked, "Does that happen often?"

"More than other ships of our fleet, but not often, no."

Finding their steps slacking compared to the others, Derek ushered the teen to move, their steps quick down the stairs.

The two stood, together, at the doorway, looking in on the rest as they searched through the room. "Only the sword and the gems, don't think about the rest," Captain West barked. A mumble of acknowledgement was given, allowing Andre to stride into the room.

"So…where are the gems then?" he asked, not to anyone specific.

Tremor, strolling by his side, murmured, "It's in a small little chest with some engravings."

"Huh. How do you know?" he furrowed his brows.

Shrugging, the shaking man said nonchalantly, "We've been here before and tried to find it. Not this ship, the captain I think has seen the island before but other pirates had landed."

"What do you mean?"

"She wasn't captain before, or in charge of Trove Isle even…" Tremor worded carefully, shifting through the boxes, "So there wasn't much she could do about the raid here, though it does seem - from her predictions - that they hadn't taken the essentials. What we're here I mean."

Andre glanced over his shoulder, Dame Hestia speaking quietly to Derek who shifted the bow across his back. "How did she become captain then? Or the ruler of the island?"

"Now don't take my word for it, or take it by a grain of salt," Tremor dropped his voice to a whisper, "But from what I understand from Sikowitz, he had been stationed by the commodore… He was the second captain of the Saint Denys, actually. He's very loyal to Captain West, though, very loyal… Anyway, he was stationed in Wales along a coast of an island, forget the name, but…" Andre locked eyes with the man as he pursed his lips, finding the correct words. "I don't quite know how, but she was able to have the commodore banished from the island by a powerful spell-"

"So she is a witch!" Andre cut across.

Tremor paused before giving a weak smile. "Boy, you sure have a tongue…" he chuckled quietly, adding, "Perhaps she may be, but there are other ways to have spells done. Anyway, she inherited the island from what Sikowitz said and I'll tell you, whoever did that was smart. God what she did to the island is incredible. It used to be a drunken hell-hole."

"Really?" Andre began shoveling through the room as well.

Releasing a soft laugh, the man hummed, "You wouldn't think that now…but that's her handiwork there. I was on that island since a kid, you see… 'Bout your age, I think, is when I met her. Young, she was then, and pure. Well, not like Virgin Mary pure but just young, youthful I'd say."

"How old was she, then?"

"Eh, sixteen I expect, though that was 'round a decade ago." Andre studied the captain as she stood a fair distance away, her stern expression bearing her memories and duties. He wouldn't have expected her to be near-thirty, nor would he have expected her to be in this life so young.

Then again, Tori had only been just older by a year.

"Too young…" he grumbled quietly.

Shrugging, Tremor replied, "Sure, for most. 'Spect you don't know her sonny…seeing as you think of her as a witch." Andre gave a sheepish grin, allowing the man to continue. "Well, I suppose that would be a right thing to say, she has scars deeper than most would know. But, at the same time, she does what's for the better of the island."

"What type of scars?"

The somewhat innocent question halted the man in his dutiful work, Tremor muttering, "The mark of Davey Jones himself, lass, though that isn't something to speak about."

The young man squatted in concentration, eyes to the ground. "So…what is the mark then?"

"Boy…" Tremor shook his head with a small grin, "Just to please your curiosity, I'll tell: I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I never had come close to him, though Captain West wasn't the same after that… She was more angry with the world after that. Not that I think she hates it, because I don't think she does, but her smile grew far more rare."

Andre gave a sly smirk, muttering, "Sure smiled a lot when I had to be in the crow's nest."

Tremor let out another soft laugh, mumbling, "Not what I mean, boy, but she does definitely love batting around her pre- I mean new crewmates." Andre shot a quick glare at Tremor, a weak smile across his lips. "Now come on, we best get finding the important." Andre nodded, shuffling about the corner. As moments droned on, he found no sign of anything particularly valuable - to Captain West, anyway. He carefully, felt about, his eyes to the coins.

They glittered faintly in the light, an orange shade glossing over the room (Archean had lit it, her eyes needing to search the darkest corners). He felt his palm raise to them, his thoughts draining away other than the prize before him. It was only a second later - an eternal second to which he wouldn't ever forget - when his hand was smacked away from the coins. "Don't touch that!" Tremor snapped.

"Wh-what?" Andre blinked.

"You don't want to be touching it, kid, alright?" he muttered darkly, "Never trust treasures in caverns like these. Anything hidden is meant to be hidden, and that's that." Gulping, Andre pushed himself away from the corner.

"So why are we taking some of it?"

"To hide it better," Tremor said simply. He glanced over towards the young man, breathily explaining, "What do you think Trove Isle is? It isn't paradise, it's a stash of the unthinkable." Digesting the words slowly, Andre began to connect the pieces when a loud crash rattled through his skull, an enraged bellow silencing the room. With his ears still ringing, the captain stood above three individuals as they nursed their reddened palms.

"What was that all about?" she snarled.

Patrick, clearing his throat, quickly explained, "I- I don't-"

Rolling her eyes, Archean stumbled to find her proper footing, eye to eye with the captain. "Well?"

"Ma'am," she sighed, "They reached for it and I tried to stop them but then I just tripped..."

"Tripped?"

"Y-yeah, tripped."

A stern glare settled across the dame's face before turning to one of interest as Cat motioned her over. "The-the swords on top of it...they're together," the first mate gestured towards a long blade with its hilt appropriately snagged to the custom handles of the chest. "So, we can get out of here, right?"

"Through that door," Dame Hestia nodded towards the exit opposing the entrance, "Right Tremor?"

The man nodded, adding, "We should also bind the chest shut. Who knows how long that lock will last for..." The dame nodded, giving a brief order to find _anything_ to complete the task. Andre glanced down towards his belt around his waste before giving a suggested look towards Tremor. "That would do fine, I think..." With ease, Cat found cloth to press her palms against the cool metal, keeping her skin from the blade itself (as it didn't have any proper coverings).

Andre and Derek then busied themselves with the chest, first anxious of touching it before Tremor nodded his approval. Soft coughs, as the chest was heaved, sputtered in the room's otherwise silent atmosphere. "Come on," Captain West grunted through the door, the exit flowing ajar easily, "We have to get back down and _quickly_. I don't know how long they'll be able to hold them."

"Who's them?" Andre asked Derek quickly. The man only shrugged, not knowing the answer all to well himself.

Alike the spiraling stairs down, the ones that branched from the broken door was identical. The captain led the way with the two bearing the chest following, then Tremor with Cat to his side, then the three with their breaths ragged. On and on they had went, it had seemed, grips sweaty against the claimed objects, the light of the lamp lit in the room soon diminishing. Slowing to a halt, the captain furrowed her brows before raising an arm. "What is it, ma'am?" Andre asked quietly, the woman shaking her head.

"Too many..." she murmured to the distant cries, "Too many of them. Come on, quickly now."

Her boots started, striding down the stairs. Andre found that his footing was harder to gain the lower he was, the stone more battered. It was a great relief when the landing of the steps came, Dame Hestia at the bottom, a long, silver chain with a great piece of jade in the middle. Veins had splintered through the gem itself, giving off a riveting existence. Pale eyes snapped over his shoulder once a short screech cam from the first mate's throat, her boot caught in the awkward step.

The blade began to plummet towards the floor, the cloth still in Cat's hands. An instinctive, impulsive arm snatched the metal, ensuring that it wouldn't fall to the floor. Tremor swore violently, dropping the long sword immediately as his eyes drifted towards his wavering hands. Long lines of red streaked across it, his other hand gripping the hilt of his own weapon firmly. Tired eyes found the captain's, her lips in a thin line.

"Why Tremor?" she breathed hoarsely, "Why..."

"I-" he blinked gritting his teeth morbidly at his fatal mistake. "I didn't... _God_ bless me, _please_."

There would be no blessing, especially with the stone expression glaring down at him in bewilderment. She exhaled shakily, eyes to the door. "Push it open," she ordered quietly, Derek and Andre hesitantly pressing their weight against the stone door.

**. . .**

The cracks of the barrels snarled through the eerie scrapes of nails against Saint Denys' paint. Yellow eyes glared at the sisters as fire blew from their varying weapons, the glow blaring against dark stares. Originally, Trina had felt sorry for them once hearing the tales from Sikowitz - perhaps one was an innocent prisoner or another just washed up on the shore. However, that pity had immediately drained away once the taunting started. Their voices were as gravelly as the rocks above - smooth though weathered. _"Sink to the bottom with us,"_ one with rotting teeth and a white eye had snickered, _"Plenty of room down here..."_

It was despicable how rotting corpses could easily look like one in a million. She had shot that one, and felt proud from it too.

Until she realized that no, a shot wouldn't do as the same white-eyed creature had began clawing her way up, this time missing an ear. The elder sister nearly heaved at the site, almost wishing she hadn't blown half the pseudo-maid's head off.

And as she had been busying herself with one of the oldest of the five - at the moment, nearly twenty - of the creatures, the other three scrambled about with their swords and pistols - Brantley a rifle - whilst Jupiter growled and howled and barked erratically. All on the Saint Denys was chaos and Trina could only imagine how things would've gone if there had been more helpers.

"Sikowitz! Give me that-that- _Yes_ , thank-you," Tori barked, snapping her fingers until a handle had slid between them. She snarled towards the creature as it struggled on board, heaving her stolen weapon. Moving passed Brantley (who was still baffled by the fact that her previous sword was being swung wildly by a Wan-nymph) Tori booted her to the side, successfully knocking the brass handle from long, slender, grey fingers. "Get off of this damn boat!" she spat, swatting at the pseudo-maid who remained struggling against the wooden floor. If she'd kept to the water, the barb-like teeth would have spooked Tori out of her boots, the glowing eyes perhaps sending tremors down her spine.

Though, as she stood for a second, it continued to flop about, not finding the proper balance as it once - possibly - had with two feet.

It was pitiful.

She was pleased to have put it out of her misery by tossing it overboard. "Hey! Tori!" she turned towards her sister, "We need help over here!" Racing across the deck, Tori groaned as long claws dug into the black paint below. She automatically felt revulsion contort her expression once a long Wan-nymph swam across, weaving around the others. Her corpse was nearing the end of the line, patches of skin barely holding to bone. Glowing eyes sagged in her sockets, a rattling voice bellowing from between her teeth.

 _"You will come with us, pretty one,"_ the Wan-nymph turned towards her, Tori wheezing as the remnants of lungs hung from inside the exposed ribcage.

"God," she swore, turning towards Sikowitz who held a grimace of his own, "How the hell-"

"Like I said, they age really badly," he cleared his throat. "That would be the queen, there, I'd expect." She moved her attention back towards the gnarled corpse, wincing as Jupiter whined. Knobby hands clung to the ship's boards, nails barely holding her strength as she wobbled about. It didn't take much time before the nails split, sending the battered Wan-nymph to the waters below. Cracks of gun power rang through the air, hitting their targets, tearing their skin.

 _"This island does not welcome the,"_ the assumed queen hissed, _"We shall drag you down ourselves."_

Right as the rattle of her voice silenced itself, the swarm rocked the boat in their attempts to claim their victims. However, the island rumbled its own outburst, quickly gaining the attention of the Wan-nymphs. They whispered swiftly, many shooting towards the rickety dock. The large stone door creaked open, may heaves and grunts surpassing the flickering light. They seethed at the figure, their mutterings blurred under the queen's snarl. _"We shall claim_ all _of you-"_

Once the captain strode calmly through the opening, her silhouette wavering along the waters, the creatures recoiled immediately. Tori narrowed her eyes, catching glimpses of a flashing green swinging before Captain West's chest. _"His locket! She wears his locket!"_ several shrieked, diving under the water in a wracking worry. Black boots halted at the foot of the dock, the rest of the crew trailing behind. The young woman on board furrowed her brows, watching the small cluster behind Dame Hestia shake and tremble, Sally giving wracking coughs.

Slowly, the queen flowed towards the dock, giving quite the distance, her glowing eyes unmoving from the captain's chest. She gave a gnarly smirk, briefly giving a small glance towards the crew. _"And so you give me more beauties..."_ she snickered, the dame scowling.

"And I'll give you a slit under your neck if you touch them," came a guttural sneer.

The creature gave an odd expression - barely resembling one of indifference - before muttering, _"Shallow graves... Dig them shallow graves."_

The dame only pursed her lips as the pseudo-maid sank underneath the water's surface, glancing along the sides of her galleon. Long, jagged nail mark ran deep into the paint, the old, grizzly orange making a reappearance. She motioned for the ramp to smack against the rocky surface beside the dock, making for an awkward side-step to load. Jerking her head, Derek lead the way with Andre, both carefully eyeing the closed chest, hands trembling only slightly. Tori's frown grew deeper as Cat held a long, dark blade as rags only touched her palms.

The two girls shifted to the side, leaving room for the bustling men and woman to head to the cargo below. The chest was bound tightly shut with belts and scarves, And having to pause to hoist up his pants. Cat, meanwhile, held the sword with trembling hands, eyes onto the blade. The captain bounded behind, swiftly turning towards the four and the mutt. "Where's Festus?" she asked.

"We haven't seen him," Sikowitz answered, the others shaking their head in agreement, "Why?" The question was soon answered in a quadruplet, all sinking to their knees. Patrick shuddered, his hands clamped at his head while the two women moaned, wringing their wrists feverishly. Tori stared as their veins churned with a sickening black, their skin pastel against the cool, moonlight. Both were paler than the skin of the captain's whose own resembled that of a dusted marble. Patrick, meanwhile, looked as if his hair was bleeding to his skin, tainting it in a fiery red.

Tremor, however, remained standing, holding to the edge of his sword. He coughed horribly, his weakening eyes glancing towards Captain West. The man bowed his head apologetically, finally collapsing to his knees.

Captain West quickly barked her orders, leading the suffering to the decks below.

**. . .**

He coughed horribly, echoing the lessening ones close to him. Quick bustling shot about, ushering the sweet aroma which would follow him into his dreary sleep. The hilt rested beside him, shining mournfully. Screwing his eyes to a near-close, faint ringing in his ears began to drip away, the familiar clicks of boots only the blur of black, grey or brown to his eyes. His mouth moved, he knew that for sure, though what he had said was a mystery.

But he spoke.

He spoke _louder_ this time.

"Patrick," lingered in the cabins, turning several heads to the shivering man laying along the flattened hammock against the wooden floors.

Derek glanced down to dull eyes staring at the ceiling, the usual greed stolen. Softly, he closed the eyelids, gazing back towards Tremor as he wheezed violently. Andre, with a handful of berries in his grasp, dropped a small, orange lopsided ball to the floor. The first shook his head, the teen sighing wearily. "Festus said they might be too ripe," Andre murmured quietly.

"They are," Derek grumbled over the quiet cries from the few hammocks over, "They're supposed to be more of a blood-orange or somefing like that." With Festus barging through the door towards the end of the lengthened cabin, he muttered under his breath profusely. "Check on the lassies, see if they need anything."

"What about Tremor?" Andre turned to the man.

The shaking man still writhed in his spot, though didn't halt once the pair beside the corpse called his name. "No... Soon as you go deaf, can't do nothing. Check on the lassies." Andre nodded at the reminder, his strides steady towards the door.

"Hey, hey! Where's Patrick?" Andre grimaced, dark eyes drifting towards the man on the floor. His voice rang in his ears even still, far too loud for someone at their feet. He only shook his head, Tremor deflating softly. He gave a wheezing cough as Andre shifted through the opening.

"Get the captain," Tori asked before he had turned to her. He registered the scene, grimacing at the motionless body of Sally, her skin grey and eyes a glassy yellow. Archean, meanwhile, continued to shake, giving off guttural rasps. Andre only bobbed his head, his steps automatically racing across the length of the galleon. He blinked towards Tremor with Derek beside him, his shaking grasp at the man's knee. He found himself at the door of the captain's cabin before realizing his sweating palms - now with some orange tainting them - were full. Hurriedly, he tossed them frantically at a bucket propped against the ledge - none but few had landed within it - his hand on the handle. Pushing the door open, he found the captain, Sikowitz, Festus and Cat all around a large table, several maps nailed into the wood.

With her longcoat off and tricorn in her hand, Dame Hestia growled weakly, "What is it?"

"Uh," he blanked before muttering, "Patrick and Sally...they- And Archean then Tremor are-" Captain West filled in the stuttered, silent words, her eyes closing with eyebrows creasing her forehead.

Heavy steps made their entrance known, shifting Andre to the side and all eyes to him. The dame watched him quietly as he shook his head, his small cap in his hands. Her grip tightened around the table, her nails clawing into the wood. She took a deep breath with a step back, fixating herself to face the wall. With her hands briefly plastered to the large, celestial constellation map underneath a lining of glass.

Both Sikowitz and Cat moved to the side, exposing a long board between two bookshelves, extensive gashes along the wood.

The captain let out a monstrous snarl, a flash of silver whipping across the room before the tricorn could land messily on the table. Andre shuddered as Dame Hestia kicked books from their small pile - loose pages strewn about - as he watched long scissors waver themselves in place between the two maple shelves. With her hands against the wall once again, Captain West muttered harshly, "Didn't I tell them _not_ to touch anything?"

"Yes captain," Cat answered immediately, her voice dry and worn.

Pale eyes swept across the room, the captain breathing heavily. "Four graves, dig two at the tides."

"How deep?" Derek asked quietly.

"Three meters for the two then just past their noses," the captain ordered quietly, snatching the tricorn from the table. "Festus, start mashing the fruits and put them in the bottles like before."

"Aye," the chef mumbled, striding from his corner. Captain West glanced over towards the two by the door, giving her silent order.

"Yes captain," Derek bowed, turning to the door. He jerked his head towards the teen who scrambled out himself. The three left in the cabin began murmuring quietly, all with disheartened voices.

**. . .**

The distinct sound of shoveling - echoed by the soft plummets of sand - would haunt her as she didn't doubt. Tori kept her gaze from the dug trenches, unable to digest the blank stares. She glanced off towards the full moon, clutching her elbows as Trina stepped towards her. Identical eyes blinked to one another, sharing the same silent thought: _'Mourning will become familiar.'_

Several steps before them, the captain stood in the low tides, the water softly washing against her boots. She only blinked once gentle splashes marched their way to her side, resting with her. Captain West slid her eyes to the watery sand beneath her, the small pebbles seeping away so effortlessly.

"Jade?"

Immediately her head snapped at the sound of the seeming lost name, pale eyes searching wise blue. Sikowitz cleared his throat, murmuring, "You did the best that you could, you know that right? You led them well and protected them from everything you could."

"How can you say that," she began to weep angry tears, "when there's _four_ fucking graves right behind me?"

The man flinched, the soft Welsh accent pulsing through her words. "Like I said," he started again, "You did all that you could. The sword and gems weed out those full of greed. You can't do anything with that."

"Not Tremor and you know that," the dame choked, "And not- not..." Her words faltered at the tip of her tongue, truth refusing any other words.

Her shoulders tensed once a tender hand sedated the grieving woman. He spoke no words as they remained at the foot of the beach, the sand filling the four holes in the ground. A flickering fire warmed dark skin, trained eyes at the end of the flamed arrow. To the stars Derek had pointed, jaw clenching through a soft grunt as he pulled his Mongol bow. Once in place, he glanced furrowed his brows to the stars, setting his target to the brightest among them all.

A stream of light rocketed with a soft whistle through the air, eventually sifting through the waters, steam ushered into the air. Not a minute after, another was shot, soaring to the same point. Jade - resting her tricorn against her forehead - breathed deeply, ignoring the somewhat lost stares settled at the sewn _X_ between and across her shoulder blades. A third hissed as it hit the water, leaving a final arrow to be shot.

This one, a rather weaker one, blossomed in the flames, set to the same star. With the fiery point, all eyes were attached when Derek lit the line of air.

It shot through the water.

It shot far from the three others, being the noblest of all.

It's longing simmer left the crew in the dark as the howls of the great mutt filled the air.


	4. An Invidious Recruiting

**_No One's Perspective_ ** **_-_ **

Dirt on the small island smelt of a number of things, besides the earth it was a part of: mud, rotting _whatever_ , rum and sex. The fact that she'd rather stand in the heart of the small forest, away from the buildings, had baffled and disgusted her. Tori grimaced as she strolled around the streets, Andre by her side as her instinct was to recoil from the horrid stenches that practically reeked off of the passing citizens - or rather guests like herself. Every grotesque smell imaginable coiled in her nostrils, the musty odor the only thing that made it bearable to walk around.

And then there were her eyes.

Oh, her poor eyes.

The teen found herself desperately wanting to go back and shovel horse shit to keep the cobblestone streets cleaned. Andre, with the same thought in mind, only looked to her; both were thankful for the cleanliness of Trove Isle, even if it had people like _them_ doing the work. Nevertheless, both mulled about, giving a brief glance back towards the disbanding crew.

"I doubt there's anything valuable here," Andre mumbled carefully, side-stepping from a fallen drunk.

She snapped her attention back to her friend, nodding humbly. "Well, who knows? They might keep stashes here," she offered.

"Right. What person in their right mind would leave a boat load of coins around?" Tori only shrugged at the rhetorical question, Andre adding, "At the very least, there's a near endless supply of drinks."

"Really?" she furrowed her brows, "How'd you know?"

He quirked a small smile, answering, "Well...if we don't get caught..."

"Stealing? Why?" she laughed softly.

"We're pirates!"

"That isn't an excuse," Tori lightly shoved his shoulder, "Cat even said that 'we're pirates of a different kind.'" At that statement, he only shrugged, whistling softly with the swell idea still plastered in his consciousness.

As their steps nulled around, they found themselves at what was apparently the heart of the town. They watched the trickle of water flowing down a large, stone fountain. It stood there - belittled by time, loss of proper care and disrespect - and held the worn carvings which had seemed to have romanticized Greek and Roman culture. The water, meanwhile, had revealed itself to be a murky mess, clear as the dirt below their feet. Gold coins from varying continents and countries littered the bottom, spawning a short, wondrous conversation between the two and their budding friendship. Tori, with her suspicions, offered the point that no greedy hands had wanted the coins because of the water and how infected it must have been. Andre countered the statement, explaining that perhaps any loose coin was taken, though the survivors were plastered to the bottom. Both ideas were grotesque, and both ideas accumulated to their revulsion of the town.

After a short while, they began to watch men and women swarm in and out of the bars and different shops, not minding the center. "You're still thinking of stealing the rum, are you?" Tori asked quietly.

"Yup..." came a short answer.

"So, what are you going to do then?"

He pursed his lips, glancing towards the orange skies as they had begun to dim. "Wait here and I'll be back," he smirked. She frowned slightly and before she could open her mouth, Andre was gone.

It was a simple operation, really. First there was a barrel, then a rather fair looking woman, an exchange of words, and then a tray. Second, there was the tray with two bottles, the fair looking woman smiling away. A set of lips against a cheek and he was on his way. A simple operation as it really was.

"Aw come on," he grinned, taking a small sip, "What's up? Never had a beverage without a label?"

"Not...exactly..." she admitted. He urged her with a small smile, the young woman rolling her eyes. "Alright, fine... You did steal it, didn't you..."

"Lips sealed," he mumbled. Sighing, Tori shook her head. Taking a small sip, she soon coughed as it trailed down her throat. Though, with the sweet pucker - something which strangely reminded her of honey - drew her to take another.

"What is it?"

"Dunno, they made it," he shrugged. The two laughed, lulling about towards the edge of the town. Along a wall which had lead down to a beach, they stood there, drinking away with lighthearted conversations. No worries strayed across their thoughts. Nothing was able to hold their carefree words.

"Hey! You two!"

Andre whipped around nervously before giving a soft breath, Tori only chucking the bottle over the wall. She gazed down, sighing at the lost chance of more sips. "Oh hi Sikowitz!" the young man beside her greeted. She mourned over the drink.

"'Ello," she sheepishly grinned, finding Cat chirping happily beside the captain, Sikowitz leading them. She furrowed her brows at Jade, who constantly had her hand gripping tersely over the first mate's shoulder.

"Right," the man clapped his hands together. He turned around towards the pair, asking, "Would you explain?"

Clearing her throat, Captain West growled, "Do you know why we're here?" Once both shook their heads, she rubbed her temple soothingly - her breath smelt of pure intoxication. "Here to get all these lovelies on the boat," she gestured lazily around, a gaunt smile twisting her lips as the bottle's contents in her hand dribbled.

Sikowitz, grimacing as the captain wearily glanced to the ground, murmured, "Right...well, you see, need more than us to manage the galleon. Especially with the rations." Sniffing before itching his crooked nose, the man added, "Well, now we'll start askin' once the sun pops up again 'round the peaks there." The duo glanced over their shoulders towards the great mountains off of the small village, both nodding softly.

However, the staggering motions beside Cat distracted Tori from the view, her attentions immediately slipping towards the trio. "Captain! I told you not to drink any- _Shit_ ," Cat swore as Jade stumbled to her knees.

Distraught ghosted her lips as they pressed against the rim of diversion. Pale eyes flicked towards the strong grip clasped around the neck of the bottle, the swabbie crouching before her. "Come on lassie," Sikowitz murmured from above, "Let go of the drink, you've drowned yourself enough."

"Yeah," Andre mumbled, kneeling beside his friend as Cat ushered the captain to get up.

Jade only pulled on the bottle, the strong grip from Tori unable to be broken. "Ma'am...let go of it," she hummed quietly, doe eyes carefully watching the dame. Captain West glared at her for a moment before releasing the bottle of liquid despair. Uneasily, she was guided to her feet only to teeter off with both Sikowitz and Cat at her side. Andre shook his head, taking another sip from the booze. "What?" Tori climbed to her feet.

"Nothin' much... Just can't imagine loosing four the way she did," he muttered.

She slowly nodded, asking, "So how _did_ they get cursed then?"

"Well Patrick, Archean and Sally all went for things they shouldn't have been touching in the first place," he growled, "Though with Tremor... _God_. Went and tried to stop the sword from falling and breaking, I guess." Twisting around, he leaned the small of his back against the ledge, his elbows casually against the stone. "So -" he pursed his lips against the drink "- who do you think we'll have on board?"

Tori only shrugged, briefly watching as he dipped his head back, finishing the glass. "I mean, who knows? There's so many people here it could be anyone... Hopefully someone handsome to help me swab the deck."

Andre momentarily pulled an offended mask, pressing his palm to his chest. "Why am I not enough?" He cracked at the roll of her eyes, chuckling, "I know, just playing. But have you found some men before?"

"Well... There was Daniel, who I grew up with-"

"Right, right."

"- He always tried to help with the chores and cattle. And then there was Steven I guess," she eased into the stone ledge, looking off into the distance.

"The possible lieutenant?" he asked with a quirk of a grin.

Tori nodded, asking, "So what about you?"

He sighed, chucking the bottle off to the distance, greatly surpassing the previous one that the young woman had held. "A few," he replied, "I know there was Barbara and then Darlene, for sure. Didn't know any that well, see, haven't been able to live 'n one place longer than a year."

"Ah, so not romantic?"

"Tried."

Tori chortled, giving a soft, "Awww, I'm sure you'll find some lady eventually."

Arching a brow, Andre murmured, "Eventually?" The teen smiled sheepishly, Andre giving a short laugh. "Well, I suppose that would be true... Anyway, you'll kinda be in the same boat, right? Ever going to get back to Daniel and marry him or whatever?"

"Maybe," her fingers tapped against the bottle, "I dunno."

"Alright, that sounds like a fine plan," he began breaking away from the stone ledge. "Anyway," Andre started, "I'm gonna find Derek and try to see who we'd need on Denys." Tori nodded as he trotted off, bringing her attention towards the distance before her.

Waves crashed against the shore lightly, the promise of sun coming some hours away. She tipped the rum in her hands, the liquid sloshing against the bottle's belly. With the slate island in her conscious, she upended the bottle, nearly draining the booze until she gagged, coughing violently. With her eyes burning, she glared at the drink mournfully - the shadows of the fallen had scratched down her throat, the fraught of the captain welded to her lips.

Once again, she dipped her head back, allowing the drink to wash down her throat, reminding her that she wasn't on a farm with a baker boy any longer.

**. . .**

Her fingers held the bottle as she trekked about, an odd fire filtering through her veins, unlike the delicate sips of green bottles of wine from home - shipped from France. It was a strange feeling, a warmer feeling, though a better feeling. Tori licked her lips as her eyes wavered steadily along the streets, small whispers floating around about a line of opportunity at the main pub.

Worn red coats struck her mind as she continued to march forward, a small group of washed-up Brits talking at the beach. Amongst them were where her eyes settled, a strong-looking man with fair, jet black hair with his own drink in his grip. Curious, she continued to watch the small group - particularly the handsome man - with interest. "Ah there," a voice to her side croaked lightheartedly, "interested in that Ryder fellow, eh?"

Once her heart began to beat as it normally had, she nodded slowly. "The one in the grey shirt?"

"Aye," the man grinned, "Right help with all of us... Gettin' some of the packages and crates up an' down the sands. That, _and_ even took care of a couple of bandits."

"Really?" she turned towards a rather weathered man, his skin tough and scarred. He nodded, patting her shoulder.

"He's a good one lass, better get him before another," he advised with a small laugh. Nibbling her bottom lip, she let her mind roam, her fingers playing with her hair absentmindedly. However, she halted at once when needles had seemed to stab her scalp, eyes traveling to the lengths of her hair. Unlike the majority of her hair, the ends had grown dry and somewhat knotted. Tori swore quietly to herself, wishing desperately that she had her comb.

Though that was lost to the seas.

With a determined brow, she promised herself that a new one would come to her future (sometime).

Nevertheless, Tori strode on forward as the small group disbanded, the man - Ryder, if she remembered - remaining at his spot. He turned as she approached him, giving an arched brow. "Hello," she greeted calmly, "I've heard you've been a help 'round here."

"Yes, I guess you can say I have," he nodded. His blue eyes set to her brown ones, the depths of them laced with the clearest of days with the haze of fog.

"So..." she continued awkwardly as he set his gaze back down towards his bottle, not moving back to hers, "would you be interested in joining our crew?"

"What for?" the man muttered simply.

"We lost much of ours just a few nights ago," Tori answered, adding, "Our captain can't manage our ship with only the few we have left."

He took a moment of consideration, hesitantly asking, "What ship?"

"The Saint Denys."

At that moment, it seemed that time had stopped for the lad, his gaze quickly meeting the honest swabbie. "Really now?" he asked, blinking in a moment of disbelief. "What's your name?" he pulled a persuasive smile.

"Tori," she grinned bashfully before replying, "Yours?"

"Ryder...Rottman," he nodded, giving a slight gulp, a hiccup in his smooth approach.

"Alright, so are you interested?" she asked, feeling the bottle begin to slip from her hands. Both jumped as it hit the ground, Ryder chuckling softly.

He crouched down before handing it over to her, taking a moment to study her inelegant, gawking expression. "You have the most beautiful skin I've ever seen," Ryder murmured quietly.

"Eh...t-thanks," she stuttered. "I'll uh, I'll go to the pub... It's the one by the huge fountain so, yeah."

"Alright...Tori," he smiled toothily to her warming cheeks, "I will join the line as soon as I speak to these gents over yonder. They'll be needing to know if I'm parting so soon." She left him with a simple bob of the head, strolling through the streets randomly. The bottle, long tossed into an empty barrel, sat in a distant recollection, her mind going far from the horrid streets of the island. Eventually, she had caught sight of the pub.

She smiled to herself at the line stretching from the inside of the pub, pleased that so many wished to be a part of the crew. Though, with the teetering stances of many, she knew most wouldn't get past the captain's snarky comments. Tori squeezed around a few bubbling men, most in conversation towards the hind end of the line. Progressing to the dimly lit room, the teen tensed as a hand gripped her shoulder.

"Hey!" came a short, relatively hushed outburst, "Get back in line if ye' want to join so badly!" Tori turned, frowning curiously. She found a large man with a long, bushy beard sneering at her. As she opened her mouth to apologize politely - since her mother's manners were still enforced - he growled, "And why's a bitch like you joinin' them? Don't look like you can take a fight!"

"Wha- Sorry, but what?"

"Eh, can't lift a little ol' chest with those arms, anyhow, I guess," he chuckled as her cheeks warmed in memory. "Don't get confused with me, I know women fightin' like me though don't look like you'd stand a chance against a seagull!" His bellowing laughter was heightened by the surrounding men, as well as Tori's hatred for the white birds of the sea.

"I'll have you know, _sir_ ," she added hastily, feeling the proper etiquette boiling with irritancy, "that I-"

"You what? You actually won against those pesky mucks?" he chortled.

That was it.

The man staggered back, his hand clasped over his cheek that had been branded by the mark of Tori's right hand. "I'm already on the Saint Denys you damn prick!" she spat, the men around the victim watching her warily. A skinny man with black curled hair gulped, raising his hands.

"I didn't la-"

"Shut it," she growled tersely before marching through the line, not minding if her shoulder jabbed against another. Soon, Tori made her way towards the front, Captain West at a table with Cat and Sikowitz.

"Have any trouble?" the man teased as she stood behind Jade's right shoulder. Shooting him a dirty look, Tori made her answer clear. "Don't worry lassie, doubt he'll make it anyhow... She don't trust anyone who seems to be a snitch."

"How'd you mean?" Trina asked, coming through another doorway to Tori's right.

"Well...caught him before this trip turning in some pirates to the washed-up British Navy last time. Don't think he realizes what line he's in, the old officer," he murmured. "And, if memory serves me correctly, the captain has a good one." The four turned as Captain West continued to question a man who held a long pipe. He inhaled slowly, dark eyes towards the girls in particular.

They coughed through the smoke, pastel eyes watering towards the lowlife of a man. "No, get lost," Dame Hestia snapped, sending the man away with Derek and Andre by his side. The man struggled in his rather drunken state, though nulled around the parlor as any other consumer. "Get the next one," she ordered the young man once he retreated to his post.

"Aye captain," Andre muttered, clearing his throat towards the twisting line. "I'll have the next one come forward!"

The rather skinny looking man with raven curled hair stepped closer, a maroon eyepatch flipped towards his grey tricorn, revealing a not-harmed pair of nervous brown eyes. He awkwardly waddled towards the wooden table towards the woman, gulping down the intimidation radiating off of Captain West. "What is your name?" she growled, the man anxiously glancing towards the first mate at Jade's shoulder, and the sisters towards the other side.

"Uhm..." his voice shook, "Robert Shapiro...but I go by Robbie."

"Glad for the clarification," the dame deadpanned. She watched him steadily, asking, "Now what do you offer to the table?" He glanced down towards the rough wooden surface, which was littered with various bottles and pipes. Reaching for his pouch, he thumbed over a few gold pieces. "Not this table!" the captain barked, "What do you offer for us as a crew member, boy!"

"Oh!" he gave a ghost of a relieved smile. "Well, I know a little about astronomy-"

"We've already got astronomers," came an impatient rattle.

He gulped, muttering, "And I tinker...make little contraptions and such." At that, Jade had admittedly become intrigued, her small silence urging him on. "And...and I know how to work ships - been on ships more than land really," he continued before releasing a sharp whistle of a four-beat rhythm. The dame furrowed her brows as others behind Robbie winced, the awkward man continuing anyhow. "I know how to navigate by the winds, I have several journals from my father and his acquaintances on several characteristics of species of plants and animals in the African coasts, Caribbean and India," he fished three thick journals from his black tail-coat. "And..." he murmured at the sound of great wings, a shadow of a companion hurtling over the patrons of the bar. A great black parrot with a red breast seated itself on the table, long talons with metal blades attached settled in the wood. Robbie, who looked more comfortable, added, "And this is Rex here, a parrot who can easily find land. I have him trained to take a piece of it so I can look through the journals and know where about we would be."

The captain sat for a moment, observing the two before her. "Impressive," she hummed quietly.

"Biatch, she's a biatch," the parrot squawked.

" _Rex_!" Robbie immediately chided, "We are trying to get jobs here! _Don't_ go pissing people off again!"

The small group at the table looked at the duo curiously then, brows raised. Robbie, all gained confidence lost, squeaked. Even so, Jade ushered him a step closer towards the table. He even leaned forward, bending over the surface. "Quiet now," Captain West whispered, "but what do you know about the Trovian Pirates?"

"M-my father rarely spoke of them, but he said they went after the most dangerous of artifacts," he answered quietly.

Jade grinned at the final breath of the shaken man. "Wisely chosen words there," she whispered, "And who would be the ruler of them all, may I ask?"

"Captain West...but rumors have it that his boat was sunken by a fleet in Spain just months ago," his voice wavered.

"Firstly, it was a British fleet and no they didn't sink my ass..." she grumbled. Dark, murky eyes widened significantly before he glanced towards his sides. The men, in the flickering torchlight, seemed to have a fire in their eyes, power rushing through their auras. "Now, I ask this because you must go to the north bell tower by the time the moon rises...if you're still interested. If you are not, don't speak of us. We will find you, Robbie Shapiro, and you won't be happy with us then."

"Understood," he nodded, backing away. With Rex at his shoulder, Robbie skirted off.

A distant "biatch" was sounded, a curve of lips rising.

"Wipe that smirk off of your face Derek," Jade snarled.

"Yes cap'ain."

"And get the next one," she murmured.

"Yes cap'ain." The archer coughed, attempting to settle his enjoyment before barking, "Step up from the line!" A small trio glided forward, the man crossing his arms. "What do you think you're doin' mates?" he growled, "Are ye' all in one group?" All three shook their matted heads. Derek turned behind him, finding the captain easing herself back in the chair, boots resting on the table as a long pair of scissors swung tauntingly in her fingertips. She shook her head. "Get lost, _now_ ," he ordered, sending the three measly men out of the building completely. "Next one up!"

Another young man, tall with a broad chest, eagerly stepped forward, careful enough to halt a small space away from the captain. He grinned a nervous, polite smile, flashing strong teeth below soft, brown eyes. "Hullo," he greeted quietly, the first mate giggling behind Dame Hestia. Jade turned towards her side, glaring off towards Cat - no more giggles sounded.

"Right," the dame mumbled bluntly, "What is your name?"

"Tug," he answered simply, "And I- Uh... I come from Burbank in Sweden." His strong accent was a dead giveaway, the captain folding her arms across her chest.

"Oh yeah? Well I don't give a shit," she snapped, thusly adding, "Now what do you do?"

Swallowing the edges of his smile down, Tug murmured, "Well I, uh, I was a soldier and then...erm, retired. So I can help around and do what's needed, yes."

"Good with weapons and tools?"

"Any kind...missus," he answered with a bob of his head. "Sorry I'm not as useful as that one parrot boy but-"

"You're fine," Captain West waved off, relief pooling in the man's features, "I just need you to step closer." He blinked for a mere moment, glancing towards the two by his side. He startled once Sikowitz abruptly came from the back door, his scar flashing against the torch's - as it hung along a pillar - flame. The older man nodded kindly, Tug bowing down towards the table. "Now quiet..." Jade whispered once again, "But have you heard of the Trovian Pirates?"

"Not much, missus, no," he replied, "I've not been sailing for that long...only 'bout a few months." There came a silence between the two, the dame pulsing through her thoughts. Behind Tug was a small struggle, another man who was eager to lean in tossed to the side by both Andre and Derek.

"You'll need to be taught though I think you'd do fine... If you're still interested, meet by the north tower when night comes."

"The one with the bell?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Sure thing missus," he nodded, backing a few steps before disappearing into the crowded pub a doorway away. The line shuffled forward once again, the young man - Ryder - striding forward. He gave a soft grin towards Tori who pursed her lips bashfully.

Captain West, however, planted her boots firmly to the ground, elbows on the table. Pale eyes caught fine blue, searching through the curious stare. "What's your name?" she asked sternly.

"Ryder Rottman," he answered smoothly.

"What about you? Why do you think you can board the Saint Denys?" she growled.

He shrugged, mumbling, "Well, I know how to fight and I know how to get around cities... I've traveled a lot-"

"Especially London?"

He halted in his words before nodding curtly. "And around South America, a little further north. But I know how to navigate on boats and I know all of the currents," he finished. Captain West remained in her seat, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. She arched a brow towards Tori, who had then shifted to her side. The young woman nodded, leading the dame to glance back towards the man.

Stiffly, she muttered, "Step closer Rottman." He obliged, parroting the other men as he leaned over. "What do you know of the Trovians?"

He gulped, carefully wording, "Well, some. Powerful pirates and a real threat...you are them, aren't you?"

"We are pirates of a different kind, nothing else," she sneered, adding, " _Now_ , if you are interested in helping us then meet at the north tower when the moon rises."

"Alright," he stated simply before taking off, brushing against the line. A glare lingered on his back, Jade welding her teeth in a menacing expression.

She turned towards her side, raising a hand to silence Andre as he was about to call for the next. "You're the one who brought him over here, yes?" she asked the half-Latina. Tori nodded.

"Why?"

Tori's spine was dipped in ice as pastel eyes shot to her own, searching through the depths of her skull. "He was really nice and helped when I dropped my glass," she muttered, "And the folks 'round him said he'd done a lot for him too." The captain pursed her lips, nodding towards Derek.

Another man, broad alike Derek and Andre, stepped forward. "Name?"

"Otis," he answered, his voice rough all around. Jade saw the purity in his eyes.

**. . .**

As a light drizzle of rain spattered against the lone north tower, ticking against the bronze bell held high above a circling staircase, a large circle of people gathered around three. The remaining crew - aside from Festus, Lane and Jupiter - stood within the circle besides Robbie, Otis, Tug and Ryder who had indeed come along with a few other men. In the center stood Cat and Sikowitz with steady eyes and expressionless faces with Captain West - clad in her tricorn, long coat and all other distinguishable characteristics.

"A few didn't show, as expected," she started, her voice ringing along the walls, adding tremendously to her intimidating details. She gave a subtle smirk. "By standing where you do now, there is no turning back, you are now a Trovian. We come from an island, or more specifically an isle, where we grow as any other civilization would. We are the providers, protectors and leaders that civilization." Her voice and words kept to their thoughts, unable to be shaken; in their hearts, all of the men knew that they would never cease to be a distinct memory. "But...in order to protect our small civilization, we go by several rules, several _simple_ rules to understand.

"For one, any traitor who lets anything, _anything_ slip about any details of our kind will be executed on the spot, whether that be on our deck or not. Any disagreements otherwise, if you so wonder, are to be settled through word of mouth on deck..." she murmured as her eyes slid towards a very much shaken Robbie. "Now, another thing," Dame Hestia continued, "you shall not disobey me, Sikowitz or Cat here, especially if you want your cut..." She paused for a moment, her glare searching through the men as they stiffened in their stance. "We aren't going to Trove Isle for a long time as we had just left recently... These voyages have in the past gone for several years, four being the longest thus far. You aren't going to be seeing family unless you happen upon them. We are your new family and we are the only ones for the rest of your life if you do not remain on Trove Isle before the _next_ voyage. I will not spread our end mission as some -" she nodded towards Robbie curtly "- already know and you will soon anyhow."

The truth had reached to their breasts, pooling down towards the apex of their hearts. A strong knot tied itself firmly in Tori's throat, her eyes swiftly moving to her friend - who only continued to stare at the center, his gaze lost in thought though accepting - then to her sister. Trina rested her eyes to her feet, a lost expression plastered across her face. Tori slid her hand over her sisters, the eldest tightening her grip.

Their steps, silently commanded by Jade as she only gestured towards the boat for the newcomers, shuffled on. Even though Tug was only a foot away from the two, his impressed whistle of the grand Saint Denys - with Jupiter barking madly, the lanterns lit, the scent of soup and the beheaded fore-piece of the hull - as it stood magnificently in the water.

"We'll be fine Trina," Tori murmured quietly, "we're not at Davey Jones' deck, are we?" With a tight smile, Trina shook her head, her stare still casted down.

**. . .**

The Saint Denys eased herself away from the edge of the island, rocking softly with the waves. The sun began to dip down onto the horizon once again, shining an orange blaze against the black hull. The sails, still limp, rustled as Sikowitz and Derek - with Tug - explained back and forth how to lower them. Tug, having apparently only lived on the West side of the island, nodded dutifully, glancing down at the intimidating range of ropes and knobs.

"You'll get used to it lass!" the older man shielded his scar and eyes, wincing from the blaring sun, "It'll only take a few turns!"

"But I thought we weren't goin' no place tonight!" he shouted back, Sikowitz only chuckling.

Derek, disgruntled from his lack of sleep, growled, "Maybe not tonight but we ain't goin' to make any progress otherwise!"

"Aye."

Snorting, the archer trampled across the deck, glaring at the two along the masts. "I swear," he turned towards the sisters who were lounging around the side, "he's too nice for his own good." Derek paused as the Trina and Tori mumbled their opinions, folding his arms across his bare chest. "Now what are you doin' just talking?"

"Well I'm waiting for Andre to get done with swabbing the kitchen so I can clean the foredeck," Tori jerked her chin towards the front, some steps leading to a smaller area.

"I thought we had more that just one mop..." She pointed towards a few figures up on the highest deck with the wheel, Cat handling the ship as Ryder continued to leisurely groom the floor. Exhaling slowly, Derek mumbled, "Maybe we need more than just two."

"That's what I said!" Trina gasped, adding, "But Cat just said to shut my mouth and...erm, yeah."

"Aye, well then go down and help fix the hammocks, girl," he ordered, gesturing towards the deck's floor. Grudgingly, Trina obliged, her feet shuffling to as Derek briefly bobbed his head towards Tori. Left alone, the swabbie glanced out to sea, the sun's reflection glaring from the waters.

Distant, accusatory squawks were sounded, followed by a very disgruntled tone. She arched a brow, turning towards Robbie who remained scolding the parrot at the foredeck. Giggling, Tori hadn't realized the newcomer until his comment had startled her: "He seems a bit strange for a boy."

"Wha-" she turned finding Ryder behind, "Oh, yeah he is a bit strange."

"So," he began smoothly, easing himself against the side with the mop in his grasp, "how'd you get on here?"

She hesitated, watching as the sun hit the side of his features, stark blue eyes peering in interest. And, for a moment, Tori found the words caught in her throat, her gaze briefly sweeping over his biceps. "Uh, I was...caught," she mumbled sheepishly. He raised a brow, urging her forward. "Well, okay. My father's ship was destroyed by another ship in this fleet and...um, Trina, Andre and I were the only survivors. We were taken to Trove Isle and -" she grinned softly at his nodding, his fingers drumming closer to her forearm along the rail "- we worked there until we got in trouble...then Captain West offered for us to work here instead of being hung."

"Oh? A little troublemaker here?" he chuckled as she gave a small blush, shrugging. "Who was your father?"

"Captain Vega, he lead the Bay Mestiza for Conquistador Barbormon's fleet," she explained with a sorrowful, heavy heart.

"Oh I've heard of that fleet," Ryder murmured. He glanced towards the girl, quickly explaining, "My father was a part of the British Navy-"

"I can tell from your accent," Tori giggled.

The young man eased a smile before fingers raked through his hair. "Yeah... They have a lot of agreements and settlements so I've heard. And some issues regarding the New World but I guess that's expected," he mumbled, the teen agreeing completely. "But, what about the captain on this ship? I've heard that she's killed hundreds of British soldiers, and the Spanish and French soldiers as well," he continued quietly.

"Well...I guess that wouldn't completely surprise me," Tori murmured, glancing towards the captain's quarters. "She definitely seems to be intimidating enough to get anybody to do whatever."

"No, that's not what I mean," Ryder warned, "I mean that she herself has killed those numbers... I've heard that great power dwells in her locket, enabling her to the darkest sorcery in the seas. There was this one on the island we just left who'd seen what she's done up close - barely got away himself." Tori furrowed her brows, the man nodding solemnly. "Said that she was heartless when she killed, bludgeoning their heads and crushing their hearts in only a matter of blows... Shot through their throats and cut through their gut, he said that she did," Ryder detailed, his voice dipping lower than the ocean's waves against the black hull. "And what was it all for? He said he heard of her little island and how great it was... But, behind it all he told me that some people who escaped had been slaves working on the island day and night, fulfilling her murderous conquest to become the wealthiest of the seas... And because of that, I'm unsure about her."

Swallowing the most probable truth - in her mind - Tori wheezed, "Then why are you on this boat if you knew she was that cruel?"

"She wouldn't be cruel if all of that was true...I believe it is so. No, she would have cared in the first place," Ryder sighed. "But, I'm just hoping to get back home, find a job... Maybe get a better one down in Spain or maybe in France too," he admitted, adding, "At least she does pay her crew...I'll give her _that_ much." The cabin door overlooking the middle deck swung open, Dame Hestia appearing with her hands occupied by a paper. The conversation ceased, the two continuing to look out into the waters on.

"Hullo Captain!" Cat perked once Jade had strode out onto her balcony. In return there was a grunt, the dame shuffling around with a parchment in her hands. "What's that?"

No immediate answer came - not that the first mate had really expected one - Captain West marching to her side. "We need to get to Pinateo Archipelago before we even start with Asia in the far east," she murmured quietly.

Cat furrowed her brows, glancing at the paper; though she couldn't exactly follow the erratic, scrawled notes, she gasped, "That far north? How will we manage to cover ourselves? We'd be past the British Isles!"

"Yes," was Dame Hestia's only answer.

"But...what about that locket? And the ring? I thought you said we can't have Madam Lee have them in her possession for too-"

"I _know_ that Cat!" she barked, adding in a hushed voice, "But I don't want anything doing us wrong with it."

"What do you mean?" the first mate asked.

Pale eyes rested on the two down below conversing with one another, her glare resting on the back of Ryder's scalp. "He isn't to be trusted," Jade hissed calmly.

"But he's fine," Cat insisted, "He'll help us. He knows a lot about the currents and the wind pattern too. And I'm taking a gander, but he looks to be able to lift fifty tons." The expression on the captain's face remained unamused. "You understand what I mean, right?" Cat muttered, "He can be trusted...more so than that parrot."

Jade shook her head, watching Ryder suspiciously. "No, I don't like what my gut says about him. He isn't to help with Festus and he isn't to have a hand in our voyage in Asia, and that's _that_."

Abruptly, the captain folded the parchment into her long coat, steps gliding towards the hind of the Saint Denys. Cat, watching as her leader and friend whisked away, shook her head, disagreeing with the captain's mistake.


	5. Cold Prospect

**_No One's Perspective_ ** **_-_ **

The Saint Denys soared across the waters leisurely, rocking the passengers softly as they mulled groggily from their sleep. In the smaller quarters - ahead of the men's - two hammocks were filled. Tori blinked awake, finding that Cat - she predicted - had assumed the helm position. Trina, meanwhile, had herself curled in the corner, grumbling quietly with fabric littered across the floor. "What are you doing?"

Her sister smiled gingerly over her shoulder. "I wasn't able to sleep," she answered softly before busying herself. Tori sighed weakly at the truth; her sister hadn't been able to sleep well since she had boarded the Saint Denys - or even since the Bay went ablaze - and it was apparent with her gaunt expression and slimming body. As Tori strolled towards the corner to her sister, Trina felt a small blush cross her cheeks. "I...uh...woke to the time of the," she coughed nervously, "month..."

A gentle, understanding hand gripped her shoulder, Tori going to her knees. "I had mine a week or so back. Cat said to just tuck it in here like this -" Tori gestured towards her trousers "- and just clean it nightly."

Trina nodded softly, mumbling a quiet thanks. And so she left the room, leaving Trina to sort out her woman-issues before finding herself on the deck. After standing in the sun for a lengthy time - constantly worrying for her head as Andre groaned from the crow's nest - Tori realized the drastic change. As she clutched her biceps and looked towards the clouds, the swabbie mentally counted the number of days since the ship had left the horrid island. It had been a near week, though enough for her to find herself surprised by the difference.

She breathed fresh air, welcoming the crisp chill that nipped her lungs. They were heading north. But, she thought that they were heading south. With her brows furrowed, she gripped the pegs leading to the poor boy at the fullest height of the ship. Within a minute, her head poked from between Andre's legs as he spread himself at the bottom of the barrel. "Hulla..." he groaned, blinking at her.

Tori smirked before returning the greeting with extra enthusiasm. "I hoped the cooler air would've helped you a bit," she chuckled.

Andre grinned meekly. "Cat said it would be she lied," he grumbled before slouching against the barrel again. "Now...why are you here?"

"Making conversation."

"Great...real great..."

Tori smiled at her friend as he closed his eyes - heights were really the most dreadful thing. "Anyway, Cat sent you up? Or captain's orders?"

"Cat's, actually... Captain had her look over the travels and left me to check for any land...said if I saw any we were too close to the shores," he explained.

"Wait, so we are traveling north?"

"I assume so... I thought we were goin' 'round to, to..." He snapped his fingers, trying to place the continent with his eyes still shut. "Whatever... Not north, thought we'd go to Asia or somethin'."

Tori hummed quietly, tapping the crow's nest floor. She noted the rather rougher wood compared to the smoother, more well loved wooden planks at the deck. "She changed her plans then..." A holler sounded from below, gaining their attention. Tori glanced from between her legs and down the mast while Andre opened his eyes. The young man grunted before easing himself up to catch a glimpse of two shades of blue - the sea and the sky. With a huff, he bid his friend a "'til next time" as she lowered herself to the deck below. "Yeah?"

Sikowitz grinned as she planted both of her feet to the floor with a mop in his hand. "Where?" Tori furrowed her brows.

"The kitchen. Festus has a huge stew goin' and water keeps sloppin' all over. So...since you're up and your sister's already down." Minutes later, Tori found herself down with her sibling, constantly having to listen to the chef as he recounted tales of his homeland.

"Back in Yerba, we always cooked whatever scurried around. Including rats and lizards... Would boil their gizzards dry as to warn the others off," he sniffed as the sisters glanced at one another. They concluded that he was insane. Though, being with just food and a dog all day made it probable. Lane, leaning against a pillar, looked over towards Festus.

"You know, he can tell right good stories whenever he's not busy with food," he consoled as Jupiter wagged his tail. Soft hands patted the large, grey head, earning a long tongue of affection. Trina giggled at the titan of a dog, patting him lightly. "Anyway, Festus, when will you be done with that?"

"Dunno. Boilin' with a lantern is difficult with a wood ship and a rocking ship. Now get off my back you _bastard_ ," Festus barked. Lane only sighed, shrugging before mulling around the sleeping quarters. After a while, the cook sighed, shaking his head. "She's rockin' too much now. We'll have to do with chilled food for a few night falls until we can manage to port at a more humble spot," he grumbled. Dismissing the sisters, the two strolled towards the deck with Andre hobbling around.

They giggled as Tug trotted towards the mast. Andre - with his arms wide - nearly strangled the young man in an embrace. "My _lord_ thank you!" Andre cheered before giving a long smooch against Tug's cheek. Tug stood confused as Andre staggered over, another wave sending the boat to a trembling glory. "Damn you Denys! Damn you, you rutty piece of shit!"

"Oh, young one," Sikowitz chuckled, passing the sisters, "you'll learn to love her boy. Lives in glory, this one." Of course, to prove Sikowitz's point, the Saint Denys took a lurch as a large wave slammed against the hull, sending Andre to the ground. Sikowitz roared with a booming laughter, having the two girls crawl to their knees with their own giggles. Even Andre couldn't bear to not give a smile.

And so the day went on, the crew bustling about cleaning whilst the captain paced along her room.

Derek, Cat, Robbie and eventually Sikowitz stood around a long table the same length of the celestial map. Surrounding the young, scrawny, parrot-less man, the four remained in what seemed to have been habit, or a reoccurring structure. Sikowitz sat in the large chair at the end of the table (Robbie wondered why Captain West, who seemed to be intimidating, wouldn't say anything about it), Derek stood at the corner, leaning his weight along the polished wood as his back was to the door. Cat leaned against the bookcase, watching the pacing dame intently. Derek stared at Robbie before eventually muttering the inevitable question, "So why's the boy here?"

Robbie winced at it anyhow.

"Hand me the journals, would you?" Jade grumbled, holding out her hand. The young man obeyed, giving three thick - though small - leather-bound journals in her grasp. She halted just before Derek, setting them down to the table. She opened one of them - a green journal - before ordering Derek to look at it.

"I don't...what are you making me look at?" he furrowed his brows, confused.

"It's in Hebrew. The lad's Jewish," she muttered before handing the journals back. "He's the only one who can read them, and the only one who can write in them. _That_ is why he is here. The boy needs to know so we can navigate more efficiently...and it's a damn good thing," Dame Hestia answered. Derek nodded, giving a quick glace towards Robbie. He supposed his small frame wouldn't be able to do much else. _Perhaps_ , as he thought to himself, he'd make a fair archer; though, he was biased. "Anyway...we-"

All jerked - aside from Sikowitz who sat lazily in the chair - once a horrific thud sounded from above. Jade frowned, eyes directly above her.

"Do you want me to-"

"All of us. We'll speak about this later," the captain dismissed, snatching her long coat. "Cat, mind the helm while I see what in God's name that was," she ordered, the redhead nodding vigorously. The two women with Sikowitz ventured towards the top deck, finding Andre apologizing profusely to a disgruntled - and startled - Ryder. "What happened?"

Andre glanced towards the captain, hiccupping softly. "Well, okay. Festus said to grab some of the salt up yonder, ma'am," he gestured towards a few barrels left out in the back, "and I tripped since I'm still ditzy from the crow's nest and knocked into him."

"I was moppin'," Ryder explained shortly, scratching his head with a splintered mop in his hand. The bucket sloshed at the bottom of the small stairs, running across the captain's balcony. "My apologies." Captain West only nodded, remaining unsure. "Go busy yourselves somewhere else," she gestured, sending the two men on their way. Jade shook her head, keeping a stern eye on Ryder. "Likely story..."

"I did send him to mop up here... I think we might be rearing Great Britain. There's some sea gulls comin' to rest on the top of the masts."

"Then shift our direction if you're worried about the damn birds," Jade snapped, "so long as we don't see the land, we're fine. We just need to reach Scotland before anything." Cat nodded curtly before her hands clasped around the great wheel, watching over the horizon. She glanced over Ryder as he strode away, bucket sloshing in his grip. Cat smirked before flexing her grip.

He set the bucket down with a low grunt, cursing his luck. He turned to find the sisters step towards him, Tori smiling toothily. "Hey ladies!" he called, giving a presentable wave. The girls, in turn, walked towards the man as he dumped the murky bucket of water into the ocean. "So how are you doing today?"

"Good," Tori answered as Trina shrugged.

Though, the elder sister was in good enough mood to make another comment: "How's a handsome man like you on a ship like this?" He grinned somewhat bashfully as he gazed along the deck.

"It isn't a bad lookin' one, this," he muttered with a sly smile. "Anyway, I don't really have anything to do." The girls giggled, assuring that they'd help with any chores that he may encounter. Though, sooner than later, Cat had barked for Trina, snapping at her to help with the men in the decks below; the round shots, apparently, had been set loose by a mischievous parrot and an anxious boy. Tori shook her head with a laugh as Ryder commented, "There's a lot of troublemakers here."

"I suppose," she grinned. "What about you, are you a troublemaker?" She asked the question with her hand on his forearm, eager for his answer.

"Eh, my ma taught a good load to me," he shrugged. "Be suspicious, for one, and know your true enemy."

The young woman snickered, murmuring, "What, did you have enemies when you were a kid?"

"My brother I suppose," he chuckled heartily. "Anyway, no. Not much...not now even. Always wanted to help those who needed it, never mustered the energy to release any shame." Ryder stood quietly as Tori watched him with a frown. The man looked beautiful in the sun as it danced in his eyes, the wind brushing against his hair. Though, his jaw moved just slightly, working through his thoughts. "My father would be disappointed to see me now," he whispered quietly, his saddened gaze dripping down to the deck. "I-I'm sorry, I just never thought I'd be here...you understand right?" Ryder blinked towards Tori who nodded sympathetically. "He just," the man sighed, "he was claimed by a rotten ship when I was a little boy. He told me to promise him, since he knew I'd always loved to ride out in the seas, to never have them claim me.

"You get it right?" Ryder asked quietly. "All of them play this game like you're one of them. He told me that no pirate ever dreamed of being one, but it's like booze: You're struggling in their clutches before you submit. I never will submit, will you?"

"No," Tori muttered. "They act kindly and they will protect me," she admitted, adding, "but no, I will never."

He nodded, whispering, "Well, at least my father will be proud of that."

"Just because you're on their ship doesn't make you one, right?"

"Yeah, because if you aren't one," he whispered carefully, burden lacing his words, "you're their prisoner."

The two halted in their words as Tug called for Ryder, yelling about needed an extra set of arms. (Apparently, some of the round shots, and some case shots which - Andre thanked the heavens - weren't filled rolled over several of the men's feet, giving unforgivable purple streaks across their skin. Robbie howled in the distance as did Tug and Otis, a couple of others laughing thunderously.) And so the man left, leaving Tori to ferment in the dreaded words. Andre was right; even though the life was on the Saint Denys was relatively pleasurable, she was chained to it. She was no crew member, she decided, she was a slave.

Most definitely a slave.

**. . .**

Boards creaked as the group - aside from Sikowitz who manned the helm - surrounded the long table. Jade sat in the wooden chair by the end, Derek opposite from her. Robbie sided with Cat, watching the captain closely. "And so we need to find them now?"

"Yes. Better now while I still am sure that they are here," Captain West muttered. Derek nodded, slinking back into his seat.

"How would you find the locket, though?" Cat turned towards the dame. She only remained focused on the table, tapping the opened small journal. "Captain?"

"The book recites old scriptures," Jade instead explained, adding, "and that won't be difficult to find. If anything, it's still kept in the town's library." She furrowed her brows as the rest leaned forward, intrigued. "The locket was last casted away by the fjords north, and the painting, according to a whisper, has the location scripted on the back."

"You don't know."

"I don't know," Jade admitted. She sighed, announcing quietly, "But we'll dock at the Stone Village at nightfall in some-odd days. Barnaby will know more about it than I. He knows more about the folklore 'round those parts than anybody."

Cat grumbled, leaning to the back of her seat. "So that's it?" Jade nodded, the room entering in a complete and utter silence - besides the parrot nibbling the corner of the table. "How long will it take?"

"Dunno... Weeks? A few months?" the woman answered, unsure. "It will stall our true quest, though I think it would be wise to."

"Yeah, why are we goin' north? We aren't taking the passage through North Asia are-"

"No," Jade cut across, "no. We will go down through the south and cut through the islands. Lady Lee would expect us to go north as we did last time. No, we will go through the south and that way, more lockets will most likely resurface."

Derek grumbled his disagreement. "Beg my pardon, though I hear them's worse after the Spanish and French plundered through. All sorts of bandits and such have been firing ships before they even dock."

"We'll take the chance," Jade growled.

"But the rations-"

"Better for those to never know where we where than to attempt to steal from our island," she snapped. The archer drew to a smart silence, shifting in his seat. "Is this all from these notes?"

Robbie, taken by a slight surprise, nodded. "My father never cared for the north as much. He never really ventured towards the snow," he answered bashfully. The captain nodded, sliding the small book towards the young man.

"Get sleep. I 'spect we'll be finding our way to the Stone Village within a few days. The winds will be rough by this time..."

**. . .**

The ship creaked on into the brisker air, Tori shuddering beside the wheel. Sikowitz turned the helm just slightly, sending the foredeck to avoid further collision with any flying vermin. Tori glared at a white bird as it soared past, wishing that she'd have a flintlock of her own to blast it down. She shivered at her sudden urges, swallowing them down forcefully.

She was her _father's_ , daughter. Not one to wreak havoc on innocent beings.

And so, the waves continued to rock the boat at a calm pace. She watched as the distant shadow of Brantley and a few others - somebody beside Tug - stalk along the deck. Festus, meanwhile, snored from beside a barrel, not out of Sikowitz's view as he had originally hoped.

Sikowitz hummed an odd tune, tapping his fingers along the battered wheel. "You know..." he whispered quietly, "you'd make a good first mate." The statement was sudden, snatching the air from Tori's lungs. She blinked towards him, baffled. He glanced to his side, dazzling eyes surveying her justly. "You heard me," he smirked. "You'd make a good first mate."

"To whom?" she asked quietly.

He chuckled softly before admitting, "That is always the question, isn't it?" The older man sighed, resting against the helm. "But really," he muttered, "you'd make a right good one...no?" Her expression remained still, not answering his gesture. "You know, Tori, you fit in with this life more than you know. I can feel it in you, it's brewing, isn't it?"

"How'd you mean?" she growled. The man was a lunatic, as she figured.

Sikowitz only grinned before shaking his head. The night continued to bear its quiet breeze as it sifted against the masts. "Ah," he murmured, "you young folk are always the same. But you do, really... More than your sister, more than your friend."

"Andre?"

"That's right."

Sikowitz was most _definitely_ a lunatic. "No...no, I wouldn't" she contradicted. "I never wanted to be on this blasted ship, or even on the damned island. Your crew took me by force, tied me to a mast and had me watch my ship _and_ my pa burn!" Sikowitz didn't flinch as she snapped. He waited until she cooled down, breathing into the chilling air.

"It was unfortunate...especially since you were taken by one of our most nastiest of men," he murmured.

"If this ship had sunk the Bay, would my father be on board?" She stared sternly at his shadow, the moon tucked away behind the clouds. His silence answered the question. She hissed under her breath, "Ryder was right..."

Sikowitz remained quiet, patient. After a few moments, he sat straight, having to turn the helm ever so slightly. "We are pirates of a different kind," he muttered. Tori frowned - it wasn't an obvious fact, if it was. "But we still aren't the same as your father, yes. Even so, if you were to steer, now, would you lead us to our demise? Just because we are not of your father's kind?" It was the young woman's turn to contribute to the still noise. "The fact is, young Tori, I can see that you belong here..."

"You're wrong...you're dead wrong."

"Really now?" He chuckled softly, though no humor was poured in; it was a weak laugh, one of expected disappointment. "Perhaps...perhaps you have not seen enough. But, what separates you between your friend is your drive to the ocean. You're not as nervous as your sister, nor do you only look at it like your friend. I see the way you draw towards the edge, Tori." The young woman shook her head; he was _wrong_. Tori only wanted to live with her mother and raise a farm, marry a simple baker boy and have three children - perhaps four. She'd recount the tales of their grandfather, leading to a very simple, loving life. Though, she felt her fist ball, the man spoke of more, more dangerous and sinister things. As Ryder said, she'd have to shake away all of the attempts of blinding her.

She wasn't one of them.

She'd never be one of them.

Even if she would swab their decks for all eternity.

And yet, she felt the calm, wise stare of the older man. "You're wrong," she whispered. Sikowitz smiled solemnly, adjusting the helm.

"Of course...though I stand by what I said," he murmured.

Tori remained beside him before excusing herself, needing to get sleep. She left Sikowitz behind, thoughts hammering wildly. Of course, they only were because she was sleep deprived. She'd forget about the small, abrupt talk in the morning. She wasn't one of _them_.

They _weren't_ pirates of a different kind.

They were just pirates. She wasn't one of them. She wasn't one of those foul beings.

Though, as she shifted uncomfortably in the hammock, his words echoed in her thoughts. Trina remained in her slumber, snoring through the otherwise still air. Cat snuck in, burrowing besides Prurple, thinking that both girls were fast asleep. Tori never got sleep that night, not with the same words, the same few words, circling her mind. They were the ones that accompanied the others, but the few words were whispered, just barely enough so she'd hear.

_"The ocean calls to you, doesn't it Tori?"_

**. . .**

"GET THE MASTS DOWN BEFORE THE WIND CATCHES THEM, YOU BASTARDS!" Sikowitz roared as Andre, Tug, Robbie and Ryder continued to heave as the other men on board felt the robes burn their palms. The women - Trina, Tori and Cat - continued to blitz around, tying the cannons down before throwing covers on; the captain warned that the cannons would be stolen otherwise. However, they found it more of a meticulous job - at the moment as the men hadn't yet tied the masts down - with the cannons rolling about, back and forth, in their pads.

It didn't matter what job the crew had, barks filled the air with a cold mist steaming Jupiter's breath. Chills nipped their noses as the wind whipped their faces with ice. In the daylight, according to the captain, the breezes would be softer with the sun melting the horrid chill away. Though, the moon overlooked their work, determined to have at least one toe or finger catch frostbite. After a long while, the tasks were completed, leaving the crew a sweaty pile, grateful for the chores.

The captain's cabin opened assuredly, revealing Dame Hestia in her usual garb. Tori found herself envious of the coat as she clutched her thin jacket. Jade strolled down to meet Sikowitz, who whispered in her ear. She nodded, beckoning Robbie, Cat, Tug, Lane and Joey (Tori had only just learned his name the day prior). They were tasked to watch over the ship. The group nodded with Cat in charge, leaving to the decks below.

"Sikowitz, take Derek, Andre, Trina and Lane to the pub down yonder," she gestured towards the right.

"With Barnaby?"

"Right. Ask him about the upcoming rations and then we'll be on our way," Jade confirmed. Sikowitz bobbed his head once before leading the shivering group through the stone docks and to the small trading village. "Ryder, Brantley, Festus and Tori," she barked, "follow me." As they followed her steps, all four shivered, clutching their biceps. Jupiter, seeing his loyal friend leave, launched off the ship before bolting after the group. The mutt yipped playfully, jumping and wagging its tail excitedly at the adventure ahead.

Before long, luckily, the group found themselves inside a musky, old trading post. The owner behind the counter looked just about as new as the building. "What can I do ye' for, lassie?" he looked towards Ryder as he stepped through. The significantly younger man opened his mouth before gesturing towards the captain as she strolled in. Jade's scowl swept across the room, brushing passed the group. As she stepped towards the desk, a sneer was planted across the man's features. "I told ye' the last time, I don' like your company," he scowled, a strong accent tainting his words.

The captain halted, staring at the man dead in the eyes. "And who, exactly, do you think I am?" she growled.

"The ruddy bitch who blasted my wife and kids to the heavens, _mercy_!" he snapped. Jade scoffed, having none of his accusations. " _Oi_! You lot best be gettin' your arses out of here and there yonder! I tol' ye' not to come an-"

He started once a long pair of blades slammed into the table, sinking into the wood. Her grasp remained on the scissors, eyes cold and beckoning for silence. Even though the man easily doubled her age - perhaps tripled, even, from his predictions - his lips were locked tight. Jade cleared her throat before rasping, "An' _you_ better know _I_ am th' one who saved your wife's arse, and your damned kid's! Ge' you damned me'ory straight, ol' man, befo' I _cut it out of you_!" The man's skin was a ghastly white compared to before.

Tori felt her skin prickle just from the thought of the captain uttering the estrange accent; the words weren't far from being Scottish, though they were strangely melded into their own tune. Tearing the blades from the table, Captain West leaned against the surface, still playing with the silver as it twinkled dangerously in the candles' light. "May I remind you," her voice hummed with only a touch of the accent, "that I will be the literal hell of your time if you give me the chance... You know what I talk of, _Shepard_."

The man winced at the last word, and Tori assumed that it was his name. "Y-yes...I- I beg your pardon, m-madam, my mind has been shattered since- since the wretched woman. Y-you must understand..."

"Right. You keep trying to play games with me and I'll assure you, the next one will be your last," she threatened gravely. Shepard nodded vigorously, shrinking in his seat. "Now I will require sets of heavy cloths and coats, and then anything my cook will need for food." Shepard leaned to the side and gulped: If he had spotted Festus by the several barrels of grain, he'd figure the pirates _not_ threatening - to him.

"T-that would be-" He squeaked as a large purse of coinage landed on the counter, fat around the middle. "Y-yes...thank-you. Pleasure doin' business madam..." Jade huffed, stepping away as Festus began forming his long list of ingredients.

"Have any dried beef here?"

"Of course," Shepard murmured, pointing a shaking hand towards the other side of the small store. Embarrassment blushed his cheeks as the dame continued to glare at him from beside the door.

**. . .**

Andre glanced towards Trina uncertainly as they settled with the few others, Sikowitz leaving the room with a hefty man with large hands and a barrel chest. "Do not touch anything," he had warned with a grizzly voice. Andre was sure to keep that promise, not eager by any means to be caught with a fist that size.

The older man, however, remained as calm as ever, stepping into a smaller room with a candle lit in the center of a rounded table. "Excuse the lack of light, Erwin," Barnaby apologized gentlemen-like, "though we've been runnin' low on the candles."

"It seems like this town here's been runnin' low on everything," Sikowitz observed.

Barnaby nodded, muttering, "Yeah. Hit by a hell of a depression." He breathed in quietly, grumbling, "Tis been rough, my friend. Lucky you've stepped down bein' captain and boarding here... The English have been comin' here and claiming this port."

"Really?" Sikowitz's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Yeah... More to help gain more access so that Spain wouldn't be so bloody rich," Barnaby gave a hearty laugh. Shaking his head, he muttered, "But, ah...also to keep an eye out for you lot. Been causing trouble with the Spanish _and_ British Navy, I hear. Takin' three galleons and their lot of gold?"

Sikowitz smirked before sighing. "You know how Van-Cleef will be. Never in his life has he been able to manage somethin' beyond his own. Now, good Gandhi, he's a monster," Sikowitz conversed.

"Though a monster helping the trove, eh?"

"Sure, yeah...yeah."

"Heard he got Captain Vega's fleet. Feel sorry for the bastards, honestly. That crew's a wicked lot."

"Well, you'd be interested in the fine lady out there then... One of the captain's daughters, she is. The oldest," Sikowitz explained. Barnaby hummed in shock; Captain Van-Cleef and his crew rarely kept prisoners. "Anyway, enough talk." The round man sighed, leaning forward.

"What does the dame need now?"

"Time...time and distance. We've had new members and she isn't fond of one, especially. You know how she is," he waved off. "Anyway, we're looking for a painting, a locket, and a book."

Barnaby grinned, his gold tooth shining in the warm light. "Where do we begin?"


	6. Drunken Business

**_No One's Perspective_ ** **_-_ **

"You know of the lockets, correct? The Lockets of Creation... Well, as you've heard, we are sealing them away at the trove with the other treasures. Lady Lee is of great concern, but Captain West doesn't trust the new boy. So, we hear there is one here, up north. Locket of Ice or Blizzards, right? The one that those Vikings stole and hid all those years ago... We want it, and we want to properly bury it. We know of this man's journal and painting... Yes?" He waited in the silence, only continuing once there was a slow nod. "Ye' see, we figured you'd know more 'bout this shit than us."

In the dim light, Barnaby remained silent, drumming his fingers along the table. The light flickered thoughtfully in his eyes before he grumbled, "Want a smoke, Erwin? I've got a new shipment of tobacco from Louisiana." Sikowitz nodded earnestly. Barnaby stood from the small table, shuffling towards the dark shadows of the room. "I am going to assume you are referring to William Locke? His journal and painting? He was quite interested in those lockets, I believe..." his voice hummed from the edges of the room. He shifted quietly, focused on his new, small task of curtesy. "The painting's holed up with the Locke manor up yonder... Them folk's real nice; Jimmy Locke, Will's ol' grandson, comes to drink here evr'y week. His wife goes ballistic 'bout it every so often, but she was real pleasant once I wen' up there... Never was Jimmy scorned since, he even had to decline me comin' over there she was real nice to me."

Sikowitz rolled his eyes, leaning against his chair lazily. "You sly bastard. I swear one of these days those men will have your head severed. You know what happened with Cedric when _he_ tried sleeping with one of the manor folk."

Barnaby shrugged, making his way towards the table. "It makes for a right sport." The older man shook his head distastefully, a wry grin still managing to plague his lips. "You're too humble, Erwin. You can't tell me that none of them _women_ on your ship-"

"Now, now, you prick, I would never. I'd think that near incestuous."

"Oh? Then what do you do to...dare I say, _relieve_ yourself? Some hardy men with you?"

Sikowitz sighed, grumbling, "You make due with what you have. In my eyes, there are no women on my ship for me to touch." A long, wooden pipe was handed to him, Barnaby fixing his own between worn teeth, withered from the pleasures of inebriating his lungs. "Now enough talk about sex, mutt, we don't have time - about that painting. You saw it didn't you?"

"Awww," Barnaby droned, "you're no fun... But yes, I did. Over the fireplace: The main one in the hall. You'll know it when you see it. It's a painting of the Viking's hold with the entrance to the cave - the one with the locket. I hear he never managed to actually get inside. Couldn't find the door but he knew it to be there."

Speaking through a waft of smoke, Sikowitz asked, "And why is that?"

"Came down with some rotten illness and died in his cottage. Life wasn't too fond with his meddling."

The older man hummed his thoughts, scratching his chin. The pipe settled rather uncomfortably against his teeth, which were not as worn as the man before him. "As Mother Nature would... Now about that journal, know anything?"

"It was in our library."

"As Captain West suspected... But I'm assuming it isn't?"

Barnaby shook his head. "Before the British took hold here, there were some pirate ships passin' by. They ended up taking most of the books there before the island went to the British and asked for their help. I wish to say that was a mistake, seeing our current situation, though I'd hate to know what would've happened otherwise."

"Had enough terrorizing?"

"More like we couldn't handle this batch... Now, course, the folks down here were lookin' to make accommodations to the pirates here, see if they could ward off them with coin. But, alas, the British had scared them off before anything else."

"So the book..."

Barnaby shrugged simply. "Sore luck, my friend. I doubt that it wasn't spared in making a nice, big fire to cook their fish." Sikowitz cursed violently. "Wouldn't this be a good thing? You did say you wanted to buy time. Well, time is bought with this." The other man paused to ponder over the idea, hesitantly nodding in agreement.

"Though," he added, "I am worried more over what we now can't know without that journal." Nevertheless, Sikowitz exhaled, smoke curling around the table. "What about the waters? Any fleets we need to know about?"

The larger man nodded solemnly. "There's been a few accounts of pirates plundering the islands 'round there. Not many, but few who aren't the nicest lot. There are some Spanish and French fleets goin' about there... From what I've heard, they've been trying to compete with the Brits and salvage some power over the seas. And if they heard of Vega's ship, the Spanish will be especially pissed with you. I've heard some tales in passing about a few survivors managing to drift onto another vessel."

"Wouldn't be surprised: Van-Cleef is messy." Sikowitz thumbed over the pipe, his brows furrowed. "Is there anything else you'd know?"

"No. _But_ , there are some Brits here that'll get a drink in - oh say - by the end of the night. _But_...perhaps goin' to the other one, down by the wells would be wise. Don' want no Brits comin' here and accusing me of a part of yours scheme. Could try to milk some information from 'em, get to know the waters before you actually go. Ya hear?"

"I hear you," Sikowitz nodded, "I hear you... Alright, is there anything else you need to know?"

Barnaby shook his head slowly before jerking. "Yes! There is!" The older man arched a brow. "You wouldn't believe it... Some of those ships belong to Commander Oliver."

"Royal Navy?"

"Aye." Barnaby furrowed his brows, asking, "Say, I've heard stories, but wasn't he a part of your - er - Captain West's fleet?"

Sikowitz bobbed his head. "First mate before Cat was. Really close to her before...well...before he sent her off to Davey Jones."

The larger man scowled, his voice grumbling sourly, "Damn him."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far... He made a sore mistake, yes, but he was young with aspirations and had the responsibility of another life."

Immediately Barnaby gawped at the man, eyes wide. "Y-you don't mean to say that-" He stopped at Sikowitz's chuckles. "Erwin, you wouldn't _lie_ now would you? How old would they be now?"

"Oh, 'round about seven... Eight, maybe? Anyway, enough talk 'bout this. Thank-you for the smoke, and for the information, I do appreciate it." The pipe was handed back, Sikowitz bowing his head.

"Well no problem, Erwin. Do come back for a drink, right?" A wink was exchanged before the men parted ways. Sikowitz shut the door behind him, looking over the apprehensive lot staring back at him.

"Come on, best get back to the ship."

**. . .**

The bar was musty once Captain West had walked in, pale eyes glaring towards the long walls clad with drunken men. She strode through, ignoring the whistles and snarky comments before seating herself in an empty chair. Derek, Andre and Trina were huddled together at the opposite side of the table, Sikowitz comfortably sipping on a tall mug of whiskey. "You want a bottle?" he asked quietly.

The dame shook her head. "What did Barnaby say? Did he know everything we need?"

"Aye, but there's some obstacles... For one, the journal was most likely fuel for a cooking fire," Sikowitz sighed. "But, we know where that painting is, _and_ the troubles we may have at sea."

"Painting first."

The older man bobbed his head, absentmindedly scratching the tip of his scar, above his brow. "It's with the Locke manor up the few hills. Told me that they're really nice folk, and will give some for the poor." His bright eyes lingered towards the woman beside him, her brows furrowed in thought. "What is it you're thinking...play a fox in sheep's clothing?"

"Exactly... _You_ will go up there with your two children in need for food and warmth. Tomorrow. You pick."

Sikowitz hummed as a bottle clicked against the table, the captain taking it with ease. He nodded towards the bartender as he strode off, leaving the group in the dim light of a dying candle. "Tori, I think... I feel that she'd do well. And...let's see...Tug. I'd like to see how he'd do." Jade sipped her drink in approval. "Now, Barnaby also said that there was some officers here...knows the routes that the ships take."

The captain paused, watching him with interest. "And what do you think we'd do? _Ask_ them?"

"Well, with your disguises-"

"No," she shook her head, "wouldn't do good. They'd be suspicious... Unless..." Pale eyes trailed a barista, shuffling with drinks slopping in her grasp. A grin stretched across her lips before she murmured, "How much can we afford to loose, Sikowitz?"

The older man shrugged. "'Bout a purse-full, I think."

"Three? You know how these women here are." Sikowitz pondered on the idea before nodding.

"We could."

Jade abruptly got to her feet, taking a last swig of her bottle. "Go to the boat, I'll be back."

"But the purses-" Her hand shifted towards the group, gesturing softly. Derek surrendered one leather pouch while Sikowitz two. She nodded before tipping her tricorn, swiftly darting across the bar. Andre blinked, not a second later.

"Damn she can move," he murmured, almost in awe.

"Aye, she can m'boy," Sikowitz agreed, glancing at the bottom of his own drink.

**. . .**

Gentle taps echoed along the narrow road, a huddled, elderly woman in a tight shawl. She swayed in the wind, her limbs shaking as if she'd fall over any minute. Her hood drooped to her nose, shrouding her expression in a dark shadow. The woman smacked her lips before wobbling into the town's favorite bar - nothing like Barnaby's crude pub. The door squeaked open, a pair joyously shuffling out before shying to the side. The older woman nodded her thanks before sliding in.

Her eyes filled with red, the soldiers practically seated in every chair and table.

She felt gazes on her, some of the younger soldiers taking interest. "Ma'am?" one asked, gaining her attention. "How'd you do? Care for a drink?"

The older woman gave a sweet smile before shaking her head. "Naw, mister, I don' need no drinks... I feel as if another would drown my last few teeth ou'." The man gave a chuckle, nodding politely.

"Well, anything I could do for such a kind woman like you and tell me." The woman smiled - such polite manners. If only she cared about his mother. For a brief moment, she smirked as he turned away, diving back into his conversation; mentally she wished him luck on cleansing the Seven Seas. The older woman continued forth, greeting the bartender.

"What could I get ye'?" he muttered calmly, the weight of the day evident under his eyes.

"Any room? I have some change for th' night." The elder grinned pleasantly before the man nodded.

The bartender - apparently twice the size of her - grumbled, "'F course. Seven shillin'." The coins were placed in his hands with a shaking hand. "Would you mind having a hand up the stairs? I'm busy with these but El could help."

"My, my, what manners all of these men have today!" the woman gasped. The shawl shook as she bobbed her head. "Of course, deary. I'm not goin' to no voyage any time soon."

He grinned a soft smile before turning towards the large tables, red coats hanging off of chairs. "El! Help this woman up to the room, now would you?" The younger woman halted, arching a brow at the shawled elder. She nodded, skirting towards the two. Without much gentleness in her touch, El ushered the elderly up the stairs, heading straight towards the only available room.

"Ah," the woman smiled, turning towards El, "what a nice room. Would you mind an' help me with my garb? I don't want to be holed up because of these scarves." El, nearly retorting until her eyes landed on the obvious leather purses at the woman's hip, pursed her lips before silently agreeing. "Oh, and would you be a dear and close the door? The draft is getting to my shins... Thank-you, deary." El took two steps closer, her eyes on the woman's waist.

She worked her way towards the pouches, thumbing across the band; El grinned quietly as she felt the small rattle of coins. The older woman, she figured, wouldn't realize if she had just slipped one-

There was a quiet shriek, a glimpse of a scream, before a mouth clapped over her lips, her back and shoulders throbbing against the hard bed. The older woman's grip was hard against her wrists, one made of pure rock. The other - smoother than she thought it would've been - crept away from her mouth. An index was brought to full lips, a soft shush ghosting the air. Her heart hammered vigorously as El's black eyes blinked up into the shawl, revealing quiet a fair, young face; if there hadn't been a creased smirk or the gaze of a hardened, devil's soul, she would've even thought _heavenly_. She wouldn't also forget the chilling pale eyes that watched her squirm against the cold metal caressing her cheek. El gulped at the long blades. El mewled at the hummed chuckles, her voice now a venomous honey rather than a soft batch of gravel.

However, it was the inked wrist that deflated her lungs, El's eyes widening as her limbs jerked.

Captain West shushed the woman quietly, pressing her blades against her jugular. "Now, now," an elderly woman's voice expelled from her lips, "hasn' mum ever told you not to steal other's shite?" White flashed as she laughed quietly, El sneering pitifully.

"What do you want? I won't let you touch me-"

" _Please_ ," she scoffed harshly, "like this body would entertain me as much as others." The captain paused momentarily at the thought, arching a brow. "No. In fact, this -" the purses rattled at her hip "- could all be yours. _Only_ if you answer some questions." El watched her wearily, only nodding after a long stretch of silence. She felt the cold grasp around her wrists tighten as the captain growled, "Tell me how many ships are out at sea - by the north islands."

The woman blinked. "I- I wouldn't-"

"Don't give me that bull _shit_! You and I both know that _you_ know _all_ about it."

El's gaze briefly dropped to the hip, three purses of coin beckoning her answer. "There's...there's seventeen, I think, all 'round here."

"Uh huh, and how many are patrolling the north islands? How many cannons do they have?"

"I don't know!" The blade was pressed against her neck as she felt a thump begin to pinch her skin. El gagged. "F-fine, _fine_! I don' know how many ships are patrolling, but they're galleons! Forty-eight cannons or fifty-eight...dunno. There's a couple of Spanish fleets that are docking on the north islands...say that they have some ports up there to make deals with British ships... There's also word that they- that they're tryin' to find pirates and catch 'em. Wanted ones - _real_ wanted pirates tis they want."

Excitement bubbled at the base of Jade's gut. She leaned closer. "For the last purse, tell me the commanders of the ships by the islands near Norway."

"I- I wouldn't know. The British aren't that far, but there's a couple of Spanish who're...who're goin' to the Dutch for- for somethin'."

Captain West sighed, feeling disappointed. Then again, since when has a barista _ever_ served her well? "Fine," she grumbled, tossing the purses at El's knee once she abruptly stood up. The woman watched her leave - the shawl draped over her shoulders - as she rubbed her neck.

The bartender only waved at the woman with a light smirk and worn shawl, quietly wondering whether or not El was taking proper care of the older woman. He didn't doubt that El would be up to no good.

**. . .**

"Tori! Tug! This way!" She lifted her head from the order, rubbing her biceps against the warm cloth. Sikowitz strolled up onto the deck, the three huddled underneath their cloaks. Tug marches from below, casting a quick glance towards Tori. Once the two meet with the older man, he explains, "The captain wants you both for a quest. One that we'll do tomorrow nigh'."

"Tomorrow?" Tug furrowed his brows, scratching his hair curiously. Sikowitz nodded.

Tori asked, "So...what is it?"

"We're stealing a painting."

She paused, a stricken expression plastering itself across her face. "What? We can't... _why_?"

Sikowitz shrugged. "We need it. Now, we'll do it quietly. Tug, you will be my son and, Tori, you my daughter. We'll all be poor and in need of a plate of dinner." The two nodded before following Sikowitz to the decks below.

Tori, however, did cast a glance to her side, finding Ryder lounging by a barrel. His light eyes shifted to hers, casting a blush across her cheeks. She fiddled with her hair; her fingers became caught at the ends, deepening the flush bridging across her nose, cheek to cheek.

Memories swelled, bringing her comb to her immediate conscious. Her gut dropped once she realized it would've been floating out at sea at the moment.

Tori, as Sikowitz clapped for her attention, _needed_ a comb.

**. . .**

The two turned towards Tug's gesture, finding that his question was indeed correct.

A grand, white pillared manor sat on top of a rolling hill, farmland remaining unfertile until the more sunny seasons. Nevertheless, distant shadows of workers milled along the land, their aching bodies ready to tuck underneath their thin sheets. The three - Tori, Tug following Sikowitz - strolled slowly beside the tall fence, meandering their way up to the large doors. "Remember what I said about this: You mustn't have any of your determining mannerisms showing, _got it_?"

"Understood," Tug replied as Tori nodded earnestly.

And so, they walked on. At the door, the man cleared his throat, a scratchy hum breezing from between his lips. As the two glanced at one another nervously, Sikowitz knocked on the door. It only took a few moments until the door swung open, a household servant arching a brow. "Yes?"

"Oh, I beg pardon," Sikowitz dawned his weak, trembling voice, "though is there any coin or food to spare?"

The servant paused, his dark eyes looming towards the huddled two behind the older man. "I will ask Missus Locke for you." The door was closed, leaving the three in the nipping breeze.

Tori watched the flickering flames in the lanterns as she asked, "So...will this work?"

"Patience, child...patience," Sikowitz murmured.

The door opened once more, revealing not a servant but a rather beautiful woman. Her skin wasn't yet old enough to be etched with thin lines, though her eyes spoke of experience. They studied the three before her, and, with her mellow voice, she asked, "Are you cold?"

"Oh...don't mind that. We can best ourselves with the rags on our backs and a warm meal, from the bar or anywhere else," Sikowitz assured with a nimble smile. He glanced over his shoulder. "In actuality, the bite isn't for me but for my two kids... I haven't got the coin to feed them as I wish to, and I don't want them lost in the harsh natures of the world."

The woman, Missus Locke, gazed at them in pity. "Oh, do come in, we have plenty of food to spare! And it would be nice to have such fine guests. Please, do make yourselves welcome as the chicken is still cooking."

"Why, thank-you. Bless your kind soul." Sikowitz gave a gentleman-like bow. "I'd say, with your heart, God must be kind, yes?"

Missus Locke gave a gentle laugh as they stepped into the threshold. "I suppose..." The door was shut behind them before the woman gasped at their attire. "My word! You were not telling lies about the rags!" She shook her head, clicking her tongue. "I shall also help with that. Give you more than simple garb. Here, miss..."

"Marie," Tori hummed quietly.

"Marie? What a delightful name. My daughter's Marie as well. Perhaps she will be able to lend you some of her older dresses. Something warmer than _that_." Tori felt her gut twist at the kind words and promises of the woman, a shred of guilt burrowing in her chest. Nevertheless, she smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Marie?" Missus Locke turned towards a doorway. "Oh, there you are. We will have guests with us for dinner. Would you mind to give this young girl some clothes?"

Marie, who bore a strong resemblance to her mother - dark hair, light eyes and a hooked nose - nodded, watching the new faces with a curious gaze. Her eyes were immediately infatuated with Tori, her eyes skimming along her skin which bled from underneath the rough, wool rags. "This way," she spoke softly, "my room is up stairs." As Tug and Sikowitz were led towards another room, the two girls walked up the stairs and to the longest wing of the manor.

The lavish - though oddly quaint - furnishings reminded her of the several visits to her father's stays in England. The only difference was that she was always at her father's side, and Trina at the other. The rooms, too, were also warmer. Tori stopped, and glanced along the dark walls. While the paint glowed a pleasant orange against what candles were lit, the rest was drowned in a dark blue, only the moon casting a faint light - it was an ominous one, however. Tori furrowed her brows, wondering if the memory and burden of her father's death would haunt her at odd times, the flames of the Bay Mestiza clouding her thoughts.

"Hey..."

Tori snapped her attention at Marie, who gazed at her in wonder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she murmured, "just... I've never been in a place like this." The lie bubbled from underneath her skin, wanting only to burst and reveal the dread in her thoughts. She figured to herself that she couldn't do such a thing to these people, especially since she is one of them.

No, _was_.

She didn't live in a manor - or a small farm - but on a rocking boat.

"Well...it's not that much," Marie mumbled modestly. She shifted her attention towards Tori from her feet. "I think I may have a warm dress for you. It's not my nicest but it will keep you warm."

"Thank-you," Tori murmured.

The two Maries strode into a large bedroom, dark with shadows casting in every corner. Marie Locke lit a candle, darting towards the small tables hugging each wall. With a gentle light gracing the walls, Tori glanced across the antique décor. Like the hallway, it was only warm around the candle lights. Even so, it was more welcoming than the stretched walls just outside the tall doors. Her eyes trailed especially towards a long dresser, several different ivory combs lined along it; one of which had a carved, beautiful design of several sheep grazing in a meadow.

"Here," Marie stood behind her, holding a long dress. "I think this will fit you... I out-grew it too so..."

"Thank-you," Tori grinned softly, her eyes darting towards the combs. "These are very pretty."

The girl blushed, murmuring, "They tend to come up and land here. Many of them I don't know how they got there." Tori nodded before being guided towards a small changing corner. She shuffled into the dress, finding it fitting her form well. "That's a lot better than those rags," Marie hummed. "Let's go and see if dinner is ready."

The dinner was indeed ready. The three guests sat beside one another, biting into their own meals with the manners they had managed to gather: Tug chomped noisily and Tori quietly, though Sikowitz was apparently the most clean. (Tori even swore she saw him pat his lips with the napkin.) Their conversations - between Sikowitz and Miss Locke - droned as two pairs of eyes graced the walls. Tug remained firmly fixed on the fireplace, noting the delicate work hung upon it. He glanced to his side, finding Tori politely smiling towards Marie.

When her gaze snapped towards his, she nodded: They found the painting. It was in the middle of the house.

"Marie?" It took Tori a moment, though she quickly found her eyes towards the gentle woman. "Beg my pardon, though do you want some more wine?" The younger woman blinked at her glass, not noticing her second filling of alcohol was depleted.

"Oh, yes please," she nodded, ignoring Sikowitz's warning glance.

He dipped to his side. "Don't go loosing y'rself to the drink, there. Can't have ye' stumblin' everywhere."

Tori carefully cupped the refilled glass. "I'd rather the bottles we have than this stuff, though," she commented cheekily, taking a long sip from the liquor. Sikowitz only shook his head, albeit with a small smirk. Before long, she felt the heat of the glass creep along her skin, drugging her thoughts into a graceful haze. The night drew on, meanwhile, Sikowitz continuing his conversation with Miss Locke. "Well, thank-you most _graciously_ for all these fine things," he bowed, glancing towards Tug: They had been away from the fireplace, edging closer to the front door. Even with her sluggish thoughts, Tori knew they needed to move.

As the conversation continued to grow, the two slipped away. Tug, in a hushed voice, murmured, "Alright...the painting, it's this one, right?"

The half-Latina blinked. "Uh...ye'. _Yeah_ , that- that one." The young man gave her a puzzled look. She only shrugged, her fingers twisting along her hair. Her thumb got caught on a knot, earning a fierce snarl. "God damn the _blasted-fuckin'_ -" Tug held his arms up, shushing her quietly. "I need a comb."

As she padded hurriedly up the stairs, Tug was left scrambling after her. "Tori, _Tori_!" he whispered with a strained throat. "No! We need to go now! I-I see Sikowitz out of the window- We need to go _now_!" He began to feel his heart pound when Tori was lost to the stretched hallway. "Tori?" Immediately - to his relief - she popped out of a room, her right hand in a tight fist. "Now can we go?"

Her smirk was smug as she nodded. "Painting!"

He shook his head, scampering down the stairs. Candles were left to dim, many of them already shrouded in dark shadows - perfect. Tug grinned, glancing over his shoulder. His grin quickly vanished once the young woman began teetering over the edge of the first step, uncertainty within her gaze. That night, Tug never managed to understand how the painting was quietly torn from its frame, nor how the two managed to clamber out of a large window.

Tug never really tried to detest to it either.

Not at the thought of what _would've_ happened if he let Tori do an ounce of work, anyway.

**. . .**

Her pale stare was hardened at the sight of the lumbering trio, bewilderment etched across her face. Once a very tired Sikowitz came to her cabin, Tori near-limp in Tug's arms, she barked, "What the hell kept you? The sun's nearly up!"

The older man scratched the back of his balding head, his longer, grey-streaked hair strewn out of exhaustion. "Well...we'll explain inside. They need their rest." He passed the captain calmly, not jerking at the slam of the door; Cat, however, did, briefly glaring out from under a black sheet of parchment. "We got it," Sikowitz announced, holding up a large, thin sheet of paper: The painting. It was laid across the long table, Derek, Lane, Robbie (and Rex), Cat and Captain West briefly examining it before turning the old sheet over. Sikowitz, meanwhile, collapsed onto a chair.

"Can't read it," Derek muttered gruffly.

Lane glanced to his side, Robbie shrugging. "It's not in Hebrew."

"Any ideas then?" he asked.

The awkward man scratched his curled hair, mumbling, "Maybe some Germanic language...dunno."

"It's French, you bastards," Sikowitz groaned. The table turned towards the head chair, all with curious eyes - Captain West's arched.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He eased himself from the table, sighing tiredly. "I recognize a few words -" a yawn interrupted his explanation "- but not enough to translate it... _But_ , it was really Tori who knew."

"She knows French?" Cat cocked her head to the side.

The old man shook his head. "She knew a few words like me, but she said that her sister - Trina - knows how to read, write and speak it." The redhead grumbled sourly as the rest of the group appeared relieved.

Settling in her chair, Jade glanced over the painting; there were torn pieces and corners missing. "How did you three take so long anyway?"

"Well, all was going good...they fed us dinner and, my _god_ the missus talks. Anyway, Tori got drunk off of their red wine, and then stole a comb." He felt confused stares on his shoulder, a small smirk begging to stitch itself across his lips. "Pure ivory, too...worth at _least_ a couple of chests of gold. If she were to steal somethin', would've assumed she'd pick a wooden thing."

"A...comb?" He nodded.

"But...Tori doesn't seem like one to steal," Cat exclaimed.

Sikowitz allowed his grin to twist his mouth as he chuckled, "Well, nobody ever suspected you to be the one to blow up the mayor's house." There was a small giggle at that, her cheeks growing to the color of her hair. Robbie only shrunk in his stance, unsure as of how to react; he settled with stepping a few paces away from the girl.

Dame Hestia waved her hand, snapping, "Enough. We'll get Trina at the end of the day. Tori will be in charge of cleaning out the cannons-"

"That would take hours, mada-"

"She'll clean out all of the cannons _tomorrow_!" Jade snarled, abruptly silencing Lane. "She ought to know there is time to drink, and time to work."

Nobody argued with her.

**. . .**

"Where did you get that?"

Tori paused her session of brushing, looking curiously towards her sister. The boat rocked sleepily against the relatively calm waters as they hit the dock, beams of moonlight lighting the dark room through the small windows. She pulled out the ivory comb, her dark eyes glazing over the intricate designs. "I found it," she murmured simply.

Trina arched a brow. "Where? Something like that wouldn't be lying on the streets. _And_ some poor girl with a brother and a father living on the streets wouldn't get that with a measly piece of bread!" She watched her younger sister as she went back to combing through her hair, clicking her tongue distastefully. "You stole it, didn't you? At the manor?"

"I'll let you borrow it..." Tori promised quietly as she began to shamelessly groom her hair. The older sister worked her jaw, frowning at the small tool; she supposed it was more expensive than her life, at that moment.

 _But_ , the thought of having smooth hair was nice.

"Alright... I'll need it after. But we have to hide it, okay?"

"Right." The young women smiled.


	7. A Canon Fuse Ignites

**_No One's Perspective_ ** **_-_ **

At first she figured Saint Denys had hit her side against some nasty waves, or the wind pushed her to the sea for a moment. Then, as she groaned, blinking her eyes awake, Tori realized that no weather was to blame for the violent swinging of her hammock. Dark eyes looked up to the leering figure standing high above her; the sight startled her, especially since she'd never seen her down below the deck. Tori jerked once her boots were slammed not an inch from her nose.

The cabins - including the men's sleeping quarters - were deathly silent as her voice grumbled terrifyingly, cutting through the still air: "Get up, _now_ Vega." Tori scrambled about, the wood scuffing against the bottoms of her feet before she stood toe-to-toe with cold, unforgiving eyes. "Does your head hurt?" Tori felt all eyes on her, Cat's and her sister's from their hammocks and rows of gazes through the door. "Answer now..." She found herself despising the honeyed words, feeling the hidden blades within them. She thought it best to nod. "With words," her voice came icily.

"Y-yes, captain."

Captain West's smirk was mocking, a taunting glint in her eyes forcing a nervous jumble of knots down her gut. "Guess what?"

Tori worked her jaw anxiously before murmuring, "What, captain?" She eyed the tricorn, long coat and planted sneer - it was the most intimidating thing she'd ever seen. It was even worse than the mermaids with rotting, wilted flesh.

Dame Hestia leaned in, her lips barely grazing Tori's ear. It took all of her will not to move. "I. Don't. Care." Whilst her voice was soft, the words sliced through her ears, making her want to squirm more. And she did jerk once a tight, merciless hand gripped her wrist, earning a quiet - involuntary - whimper. "You are not here for your own glory," Jade seethed, Tori fidgeting as she felt cold teeth press against her hand. The half-Latina gulped as she continued: "You are serving a sentence for violating the handling of the most precious resources of _my_ _land_. Do you hear me? That is an immediate death penalty, did you know? If you three weren't on this boat together, your sister would've probably still have been alive but you..." The captain snarled as Tori grunted weakly, snapping her gaze towards her sister. Trina stood, stricken, almost reaching out but thinking better of it. "Next time I ask you to do something, you will do it no matter how starved you are of liquor. Is that clear?"

She felt the comb's ivory press against the palm of her hand.

Tori didn't find her voice immediately, she found herself frightened - to not answer quick enough. "Y-yes," came out in a short breath, "captain."

She shrunk under Jade's ruthless gaze. "You will clean every-single-cannon by the time the sun is down. If you aren't done by that time, I will have you clean them - half the time - after we shoot each and every one of them. So get your ass out of here and start." The Dame abruptly moved to the side, allowing Tori to stumble over herself, shouldering passed the line of men outside the door.

Trina squeaked once Captain West stepped towards her in two strides. "Can you read French fluently?"

She gawked before answering, "Yes...ever since I was a little girl." Trina only received a nod before Jade stormed down the hall. She realized - just then - as the men shoved themselves away from the captain's path, that Jade wasn't a woman to piss off.

And yet her sister had.

**. . .**

Her arms ached as her knees began to throb. Even so, Tori worked tersely, eager to complete the job. Three cannons were cleaned thoroughly, inside and out. The tracks were cleared. No dust coated a speck of them. But she glanced down the long rows of them, whining softly. And then Tori reminded herself of the rows at the top deck - and the level below. With a heavy sigh, Tori continued to clean the cannon thoroughly, her attention to each and every spot.

She was so invested in her work that she didn't notice - or turn to - the steps trailing behind her. "Hello," came a soft voice behind her.

"Hey," she murmured, a small grin etched across her features. Tori felt his gaze at her shoulders, but she didn't bother to turn around. "You're not coming here to help, are you?"

Ryder chuckled. "No... I'm sorry, I don't think that's a good idea. But," he sighed, "I'll keep you company."

Tori gave a smile before murmuring, "Thanks." Still she swabbed endlessly, eager to get all of the dirt out of the strange marks. The young woman found herself torn between two battles: the need to clean every-single-damn-muck she found and the sun that was slowly making its way through the sky.

"Do you think you can finish this?" he asked.

"I have to."

He took the answer, watching as she worked away. Ryder cleared his throat before stating, "I feel like this is the nicest thing she'll do to you." Tori paused momentarily, looking over her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" she mumbled, absentmindedly scrubbing the cannon.

"Well, I mean she has you doing this for stealing a comb." She furrowed her brows, her head still aching. "I mean, come on, she steals _lives_. A comb is nothing compared to that." Tori nodded, though still lathered water and rags all over the side of the cannon. "What do you think, Tori?"

She shrugged sourly. "I'm a prisoner, and I have to follow her orders and serve," she stated.

"It shouldn't be like this," Ryder replied. "You should be free, not here to serve for what, causing a little trouble?" Tori recalled slamming her fist into another boy protecting some chests. She also recalled a man spitting in her face before getting the proper chance to explain both Andre and herself. Her scrubbing became irritated; thoughts swam as she noted that there was no reason for her being on the ship. No. Good. Reason.

"I don't want to be here to begin with," she muttered. Ryder grinned with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Even so, his voice sounded weary. "If only we could find a way to get her off your back... That way, you could be at least a little free."

"...Yeah."

Ryder shook his head. "Though, I've heard stories from my uncle - since he's in the Royal Navy-"

"Wasn't your father in the navy?"

He paused, pursing his lips for a moment as she moved down a cannon with cobwebs. "Both of them are...or, were when my father was alive. My uncle's still serving though, and he told me a story of this one man he met a few years back." Tori's eyes met his curiously. "Have you heard of Commander Oliver? Since your father was one."

"My father only knew about the commanders that he led and some others," she explained smoothly, adding, "but no - I haven't heard of him."

"Well," he coughed, "Commander Oliver...he was captured by Captain West. He was the only one who survived and escaped, actually. When he was younger, before he became commander, Oliver followed in his family's footsteps and went to sea before joining the navy proper. But, his ship was sunk and he had to fight her. Said to my uncle - see - that he watched her shoot his mates one by one, with no emotion in her eyes. She went up to him to do the same when he saw Davey Jones in her eyes... He told my uncle that it was an angel who saved him from her. The ship took a wild turn and she stumbled, allowing him to shimmy through the ropes and cast off on a board.

"And now, now Commander Oliver seeks vengeance against Captain West, and adamantly tries to find her ship." He finished his tale with a slow breath, Tori blinking. She hadn't cleaned a spot while listening to the tale.

She furrowed her brows. "Davey Jones... You mean like witchcraft?"

"Yes," he nodded grimly. "He didn't believe it but he thinks - at least my uncle did when he told me - that she drabbles in it." Ryder scratched his head, continuing with, "Once he was saved, though, my uncle said that he looked like a sick dog. All shaken like he'd seen a ghost. More like a devil."

Their attention snapped towards the stairs leading to the decks above. "Ryder! We need help with the masts, some of them are being brought down!" came Derek's voice. Ryder sighed, glancing towards Tori.

"I'll be back."

"Okay," she hummed. As his steps faded in the distance, her mind pondered as her hands worked. She didn't doubt the story, not with her limbs still sore from the few hours prior. But, her eyes weren't emotionless then, not how they usually were; the captain's eyes swam furiously with livid rage. But, then again, perhaps the captain wasn't the same when she was taking lives. Perhaps it was like how she was when drunk.

Tori, reminded of her task, began washing the cannon with vigor once more.

**. . .**

Wool itched at skin unmercifully, though the crew members still tugged at the coats, wanting to be more snug. The violent chip of cold winds bit their noses. Oh how those on the decks wanted to be down below, cooking a fine meal, sleeping with a lazy paw scratching at fleas, or even hauling ass to clean sixty-four cannons - including those on the surface - by the time the sun was set. Andre grumbled to Derek and Otis, shivering underneath two layers of thick, scratchy coats. "Does it get colder than this?" he asked through clacking teeth.

Otis - shivering slightly - looked to his side under a wool hood, Derek only sporting a linen coat. "Yes. Now I'd start scrubbing the decks with dry rags and get the ice away as quick as you can." The men immediately set to work, concentrating on warming their bodies up and shielding the deck floor from an icy wrath.

"H-how aren't you _cold_?" Andre asked Derek across the foredeck.

There was a solemn curl of lips. "We aren't going pass Sweden...but this ship's been through worse than that." Andre didn't like the sound of that thought.

By the helm, Cat gritted her teeth, steering the Saint Denys violently from a cliff's edge. Everybody on the ship - below or on deck - scrambled around. " _Arianna!_ " Captain West snarled, after grunting as she slammed into the railing, her eyes meeting the sight of chilled waters below.

"I'm sorry! I only just saw it!"

"You're not only going to see this lead if you _do that AGAIN!_ " the captain bellowed, holding a long flintlock towards the first mate. Cat squeaked, trembling from behind the helm. Once at her side again, Captain West muttered, "The ice better not be this bad when we get to the cave."

"I don't think so... If navy ships are still going around, they would be breaking the ice," Cat replied. Her gaze was suddenly lifted at the squawk accompanied by the large rush of wings. Rex chipped the wood as he landed at the balcony railing, a piece of parchment impaled through one talon.

As Cat took the paper, Jade growled, "I swear I told him to have his bird to quit ruining my ship!"

"Biatch," he squabbled.

Pastel eyes sharpened. "I fucking swear, _bird_ , I'm going to have Festus cook you and feed you to _him!_ " She pointed at the crow's nest, Robbie leaning over the side curiously.

Ignoring the threats - Dame Hestia reaching for the bird as it taunted her again - Madam Felidae murmured, "You're right, captain, we are being followed." She tucked the page in her pocket, waving at Robbie. A four-beat whistle came, excusing Rex to fly back to his companion. Jade turned over her shoulder, growling under her breath.

"Damned Spanish... Move." Cat surrendered her place before the captain gripped the helm with a scowl.

"Do you want to drop the rest of our masts?" The Dame shook her head as the ship crept passed two tall cliffs, a fork ahead: a narrow river leading to more ocean to the right while another curving around the base of the left cliff. The Saint Denys abruptly swung around the cliff, the captain grunting with the force. The first mate dove to help with the helm. As the two struggled, the ship diving out of view from the Spanish one, Jade barked, "Andre!"

Having been toppled over, he poked his head from the stairs. "Yes ma'am?"

She bore her teeth, her heels digging into the wood. The helm spun rapidly as the two made adjustments - Andre wobbled. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure there is no ice," he answered, adding, "captain."

"Go find Sikowitz and -" she heaved, the ship successfully turning the tight corner "- tell him to bring out the old flags."

"Which ones?"

As Cat panted beside her, she answered, "He'll know. And - also - bring out the uniforms from the same chest." He nodded dutifully before skirting off, leaving the captain and her first mate alone.

"'You're not only going to see this lead if you do that again,'" Cat mocked. She giggled weakly at the furious glare sent to her.

**. . .**

The Union Jack sailed mightily upon the vessel, the crew members mulling around in uniforms that had been previously dusted thoroughly. Ocean-blue eyes watched the incoming ship as it sailed by, calmly. He cleared his throat once a woman in a long, blue dress stood beside him. "They better not go downstairs..."

"They won't," Jade murmured calmly. "Not when there's a trusted captain overseeing her deck." Sikowitz quirked a smile. "And in any case, we could always tell them that they're trespassing..."

He chuckled lightly, nodding carefully. "Perhaps, perhaps... Though I doubt they'd be interested. After all, _we_ may just very well be trespassing in their waters." The true captain pursed her lips. They watched - with the few crew members who stood on deck - as the Spanish ship groaned beside them, appearing to be shabbier and runty beside the majestic Saint Denys. Jade heard their anchors plummet through the surface with a dutiful _splash!_ "Lower the boards!" Sikowitz shouted. Lane, Toby, Ryder and Brantley followed the orders. Long boards were lowered for the gathering Navy soldiers, an impressive man standing in front.

He was the first to board the ship.

With a gold-rimmed tricorn on top of his head, the man had he chest permanently puffed-out from the long, draped, tailored long coat that matched the darkest shadows of the ocean. "Where is the captain of tis ship?" he asked with a light accent.

"Here," Sikowitz answered calmly, earning a large grin. "Captain Molder," he grumbled, shaking the man's hand.

"Ah! And I see you have a missus?" Jade gave a quaint grin as he bowed, kissing the top of her hand. "What a precious ship - well kept paint, I'd say," the man - presumably the captain - noted once the Dame put her hand back to her side. "Now, beg my pardon, I'm Captain Borja. I've received word of caution that I'd think would be best spread amongst the others patrolling the waters."

Sikowitz arched a brow. "What do you mean?"

Captain Borja inhaled, shuffling through his English vocabulary. "Piratas," he answered. "A ship of ours had been plundered by them, and I believe it to be Captain West's doing. Especially since I've heard of his name floating around these aguas, er, waters. Killed Captain Vega, his crew, and his daughters."

Sikowitz clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, furrowing his brows. "That...is interesting. I've heard of it in passing but- What news do you bring?"

The Spanish captain shifted his gaze towards Captain West, chewing the inside of his cheek. "We must talk more privately. I fear I would bring too much trouble in front of any others." The older man shifted his gaze towards Jade who pursed her lips - at the irony, if anything. She nodded slowly before backing away, leaving the men to shuffle towards her cabin. Sikowitz led the man inside, casting Jade a quick, sneaky glance. Some Spanish soldiers - wanting to keep an eye on the cabin door, surely - began to quietly converse with the crew members, some bowing their respects to Jade. She wondered if she was the only woman they had seen for months.

After several minutes, the door opened, Captain Borja striding away with Sikowitz standing at the quarter deck. He nodded towards Jade as he strolled passed, strolling towards his ship. "Take the boards!" Sikowitz ordered, the crew then pulling the ramps back to the main deck. Captain West immediately strode towards the older man as he leaned against the railing. Once at the last step, the anchor then being pulled up by the other ship, she blinked up towards him.

"What news did they bring?"

He sighed calmly. "Bad news... I have a feeling that they will find us again. We must tred carefully, _especially_ with whom we have on board." She arched a brow. "The main points that he had to give we already know - and know more about. He told me that he's one of the ships commanded to track pirates down and send them for their trial - take back their gold. But, he also said that he's keeping a sharp eye for Captain West."

"He wouldn't know if the captain stood a foot from him in a dress."

Sikowitz nodded, grumbling, "Yes, that's true...but he'll know. I just have that feeling. And you know I've never been wrong."

Captain West scowled. "What are you trying to say?" The two watched as the Spanish ship began to move forward, slowly and creaking its way passed.

"He knew Captain Vega personally... He told me a story of visiting his farm, even." Jade felt an uncomfortable irk in her gut. "If he does find us again, unprepared, he'll recognize the girls." She scowled, her right hand balling. Sikowitz padded her shoulder gently, murmuring, "Nothin' is easy, is it?"

"Seems not," she growled quietly.

**. . .**

Her eyes followed the waves as they licked the sides of Saint Denys' hull. Droplets rushed to her fingertips, a crack of a smile only dawning on her.

_"The ocean calls to you, doesn't it Tori?"_

The swabbie scowled, wrenching her hand from the side. The sky was dark, allowing soft hues of orange from the lanterns to gently light the five decks - all of which were being scrubbed tersely by Trina, Otis and Derek with dry rags. Voices murmured in mellow tones, a hot meal in their stomachs coating their words. Ryder stood beside Tori, turned towards Andre who held a bucket. He teetered to the side, his skin still tinted green from his time up in the crow's nest. After a while, he darted off, needing to lay his head down that wasn't at least a hundred feet from the comfortable ground.

"So," Ryder hummed, leaning against the railing, "the ship's nice at night, right?"

Tori smiled gently, nodding slowly. "I like the lanterns."

"I do too. The ships I've been on never been this nice..." His voice trailed off. "If I were in the Navy, I'd rather go on this ship than any of the others." The half-Latina chuckled. "Anyway, what about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Life on the farm. I've never really been around cattle or goats... So what was it like?" He blinked at her with interest.

Tori shrugged before murmuring, "Well, we lived on the side of a mountain, a bit further off from town. I could see the ocean - or at least hear it - from my bedroom." She ignored Sikowitz's words as they bubbled in her thoughts. "And it was just habit, really. Get up, feed the sheep, work on the crops, go to town and by bread from Daniel, make our dinner and meals for the next day and then go back to bed." Tori furrowed her brows, feeling her eyes burn. It was a simple life, one with a promise of life; she missed it. "It was good, then. My father came back for a month or two, helped us, and then asked Trina and I if we could go with him...see the world. I was really excited and Trina was too. My mother..."

Tori sighed wearily, staring down towards the dark waters. "I haven't seen my mother in so long. I- I don't remember if it's already been a year."

"Do you remember what she looks like?"

She turned towards him and nodded softly. "A lot like Trina. But my sister says she looks a lot like me," Tori answered.

Ryder gave a soft laugh, murmuring, "Your sister and you do look similar." Tori gave a weak shrug, looking off towards the distance. Sikowitz manned the helm, Cat skipping down the flights of stairs. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing, just thinking," she answered. "My sister's always been the prettier one." A blush crept across her cheeks; it wasn't something she meant to think - out-loud especially.

Tori almost jumped when a rough - though gentle - hand clutched her chin. Curious blue eyes looked down at her with a small grin. "I don't think so," he mumbled. She flicked her gaze back down to his lips before she blinked at his eyes.

"I- Thanks..." she stammered bashfully.

Hard steps seemed to have thundered in the middle of the lantern-lit moment, the captain's shadow a dangerous, black figure against the kind light. Tori's expression immediately morphed into a scowl, one that was returned with more vigor. "Get down to the cabin, Rottman, you're not on duty." Ryder pursed his lips, a strange glare coating his eyes. Jade's sneer was infinitely more aggressive, however; Tori thought of it like two storms battling one another. Ryder's eyes bore resemblance of a calm ocean during a sunny day, the waves tossing spiritedly. Captain West's, however, were pale, what one would see as they drowned in the depths of the waters, searching for the sun.

The man nodded before slinking down under the deck, not before giving a kind glance towards Tori.

"You're on night duty, Vega," she growled.

The teen watched her carefully before murmuring a quiet, monotone, "Yes captain."

Jade nodded curtly before storming off, her long coat blending in with the night sky. Tori leaned against the railing, sighing exasperatedly. She heard steps behind her, and a part of her wished that it was Ryder - a large part. As metal-clad claws scratched beside her, the large parrot looking out to sea, Tori greeted, "Hey Robbie."

"Hi. I heard you and the captain talking," he said. Robbie sided beside her, drumming his fingers against the railing. "It's just me, you and Otis patrolling down here. Tug's up in the crow's nest. When he comes down, I'll have to go up."

"Alright," she mumbled. The two remained silent, not speaking in the calm quiet atmosphere, just listening to the waves rustle against the ship. Still, she felt better with another person by her side, one that didn't reek of violence.

**. . .**

Rex squawked, escaping the mutt as he jumped after the parrot. There was a holler, and the companion joined Robbie up in the crow's nest.

The helm creaked underneath Sikowitz's hands as he turned, his eyes watching the few shadows - the lanterns besides a couple having burnt out - mull around. The dark figure of the young swabbie caught his attention, pity filling his chest. "You know," he hummed to the captain, "you don't need to be so hard on her."

Jade snorted from the side, her gaze up to the moon. "She needs to know her place."

"Aye, agreed," he admitted. "But what do you expect? She watched her father die with a ship she'd rather be on than this one." Pastel eyes found his own, her lips pursed grimly. "I'm telling you Jade, she'll be valuable to you. I can see it: She's a fighter."

"Oh yeah? I'm having a difficult time finding use for her."

Sikowitz guided the ship to the left, his eyes darting towards his compass at his palm. "How so? Is it her that you have an issue with? Or is it her friend?" There was no answer - no verbal one, anyway. "I told her this some time ago - right before we got to the Stone Village... She'd be a good first mate."

Jade growled to herself. "Cat's the best one I've had, and she's the only one I need."

"Oh yes, and I agree. Cat's a very good one. She's done an _excellent_ service, especially when seeing the fact that we found her in a barrel. But I'm not saying now, either...though in time, I feel like Tori will prove herself to be a good leader of sorts."

She shook her head in protest. "What about her sister - Trina? Andre?"

Sikowitz chuckled dryly. "Andre will be a good man, I'm sure. Though another Derek, just as loyal and hardy. Trina will be useful, definitely. But captain, you know very well that they aren't strong enough, not like how Cat is. They don't have that fire that combats the water around us." Captain West folded her arms indifferently, looking out onto the decks below.

"And Tori does?"

He nodded. "She has that look in her eyes. And it takes a lot to pry her away from the sides of Saint Denys... That," he gave a sly grin, "and her drinking should be a warning." Sikowitz glanced towards the woman who arched a brow. "There's a fire with her, I can see it."

"And I can't," Jade stated firmly. "The only reason why she's not overboard is because she's serving."

"I know, and I doubt that. You can't risk any other losses, even a swabbie." Dame Hestia growled, though spoke nothing - he wasn't wrong. "And in any case, I'd keep her... She just hasn't seen enough of the ocean and what we do, that's all. And don't argue -" he cut across "- because you've purposely kept her from it. Now I've seen this time and time again, where people board ships with a steely hatred, and then the ocean calms it, morphs it into determination."

There was a scoff before, "And what other time have you seen this?"

And a pause was drawn out. "You." Jade shook her head. "Now don't... She reminds me of the little girl who'd sell flowers when she was young. And, yes, you were scorned before you even boarded this ship - at a few years younger than she is now. But remember, she was just taken from her life picking hay and grooming sheep. You can't expect her to be what you need right now."

"But what I need right _now_ is not what I will need later," she snarled.

The man paused, turning his back towards the helm. "There's one thing you desperately need, Jade, something that he took from you when-"

" _Shut_ it."

"You can't ignore this, Jade," he said softly. "You need people to help you, whether it be under your command or not. You can't do everything on your own."

"I'm doing a pretty damn good job at it now."

Sikowitz chuckled weakly. "That you are. But you know Lady Lee won't care. You need all the people you can get, especially Tori. She may turn out to be an dangerous woman - maybe more than you."

Jade snorted, rolling her eyes. "She can barely lift a chest. She can't even listen! How the hell do you expect me to believe that _she_ -" Captain West pointed towards Tori who continued to look over the edge "- is a threat?" The man looked towards the young woman in the distance, her figure mindlessly following the rhythm of the ship.

"Look, as I said before, you don't need to be so hard on her. Life's already breaking her back - don't need to go 'round and _snap_ it. Now, if you truly want a useful worker out of her," Sikowitz grumbled, his fist curled around the helm once again, "I'd suggest you take her with you to find the locket." The Dame growled under her breath. "And if you don't want her with him," he continued, answering the grumblings, "then don't bring _him_. If you truly want to see what she could do, then take her to the darkest of shadows and the brightest of lights. You need to convince her. But you also need to rely on her; don't believe what you see, Trina isn't the one hurting the most here."

"Yet she's the only one who has terrors as she sleeps." Sikowitz arched a brow. "Cat told me."

He shook his head. "A man who dreams of his terrors but lives through his life under the sun is accepting it. Not wholeheartedly, no... As I said, don't be so hard on her. If you do, well, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And two of them would be a nightmare."

"Oh please... Fine, _fine_ ," she gave in nonetheless, "but I'm going not going to help her."

Jade swiftly left his side, stepping down towards her cabin. He tapped his fingers against the helm, whistling an odd tune. Curiously, his eyes swept towards the swabbie as her sister joined her side. "I do wonder..." he murmured aloud. Shaking his head, he turned the helm to a degree. "No, not now. Not yet."

Still, he gave a pleased smile.


End file.
